I die
I be
I train car
I November sun set
I child ignoring me
I believe
I empty
I wait and want
to die
to be.
november 8
Fallout
Of all the perfect moments,
that should have been deadly
The tree that could have
broken my neck with loving relish.
The smell of laughter soup
that could have burst our emaciated bellies.
The words that thrash
all my blood until I run
without the permission of oxygen
Could a following moment survive
this fallout beauty?
november 8
that should have been deadly
The tree that could have
broken my neck with loving relish.
The smell of laughter soup
that could have burst our emaciated bellies.
The words that thrash
all my blood until I run
without the permission of oxygen
Could a following moment survive
this fallout beauty?
november 8
Words Fit Squares
They pile up in folds
they pile against fingers
they pile in my mouth, my throat
they pile up in the miles
how can I prepare
to sort them into saying so.
november 8
they pile against fingers
they pile in my mouth, my throat
they pile up in the miles
how can I prepare
to sort them into saying so.
november 8
Into Dashes
Passing diesels
break the sunset
into dashes
Birds break the skies
Breath breaks lives
And the between us
breaks against lashes.
nove 8
break the sunset
into dashes
Birds break the skies
Breath breaks lives
And the between us
breaks against lashes.
nove 8
Sunset Snow Cone Syrup
Sunset snow cone syrup
for sharing
for passing
a summer cold
the planes ride it so slick
they melt they swirl
then dive
to lick the very last drop.
nove 8
for sharing
for passing
a summer cold
the planes ride it so slick
they melt they swirl
then dive
to lick the very last drop.
nove 8
an attic day
the fern molts, but its alien shoots grow fuzzy in their own mulch
his clothes lie in the doorway, a puddle of time, all the days he's worn them
fruit flies harass the window herbs, sometimes my face, and I don't even have the bitterness to mind
I gather the tea mugs, clinking, checking them for oracles
Keep moving through the dust galaxies,
but my heart always runs ahead, keeping time
in a safe thought far from here.
nov 3, 09
his clothes lie in the doorway, a puddle of time, all the days he's worn them
fruit flies harass the window herbs, sometimes my face, and I don't even have the bitterness to mind
I gather the tea mugs, clinking, checking them for oracles
Keep moving through the dust galaxies,
but my heart always runs ahead, keeping time
in a safe thought far from here.
nov 3, 09
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