craters reflected in tea
the horizon bowed
room hums into room
read my dreams to me
swept of sound or cloud
i knock through
babel narrating
only sleeptalk aloud
june 6, 12
Head Dreaming of a Bird (or Bird Dreaming of a Head)
waking up to the birds
the infant season
cries earlier and earlier
need,
the dog paws up a pallet of thatch
satisfied to hear me say here
go or lie down from time to time,
and inside i'm also satisfied
with the feeling of a new bird
falling from trying
drawing the failure out in euphoric swoops,
so far up, if anyone cared to watch the sky,
the empty skull would stir with only me
the only shadow in that whitewashed bone
the only wet and beating thing in that years dry head,
anyone could watch it happen
until i fell out of view
the end of their story of me
ricocheting without grace
through brittle capillaries
bent invisible
and flicked to the earth,
the morning won't register
anything amiss
june 5, 12
the infant season
cries earlier and earlier
need,
the dog paws up a pallet of thatch
satisfied to hear me say here
go or lie down from time to time,
and inside i'm also satisfied
with the feeling of a new bird
falling from trying
drawing the failure out in euphoric swoops,
so far up, if anyone cared to watch the sky,
the empty skull would stir with only me
the only shadow in that whitewashed bone
the only wet and beating thing in that years dry head,
anyone could watch it happen
until i fell out of view
the end of their story of me
ricocheting without grace
through brittle capillaries
bent invisible
and flicked to the earth,
the morning won't register
anything amiss
june 5, 12
Such Fires
We are not for these fires
love them as we do to a crumble
and our limbs and fisted organs
are still what we're left with
In the whole earth we tie ourselves up here
and cry martyr burned in them
but such fires are to be warmed by
not staked to
Such fires are to come back to
to signal marco on our polo ways
not to lean into while the world
drains from our eyes forever
a black char
we no longer turn to for life
We love them but these fires
they are not our bodies
june 5, 12
love them as we do to a crumble
and our limbs and fisted organs
are still what we're left with
In the whole earth we tie ourselves up here
and cry martyr burned in them
but such fires are to be warmed by
not staked to
Such fires are to come back to
to signal marco on our polo ways
not to lean into while the world
drains from our eyes forever
a black char
we no longer turn to for life
We love them but these fires
they are not our bodies
june 5, 12
Check the Sheets For Spiders
In the mother's house
built around our heads like a garland
across our arms like the satin
edging of wide-woven blanket
the girls whip the sheets to wake spiders
beat the pillows against the walls
and promise to wake while the windows are still blue
the father roams and stacks his boots
steel worn as dull as leather
and leather worn as thin as words that count
he stacks pale dishes above their rims with food
passes it around, settles, then dusted
away again by words, like gnats from the garden
the mother, the mother
checks our crowns for thistles
and beetles, repeating the lists
of things that chew shotgun holes
in the night, things that hide
she traces careful incisions with her beak
on the napes of our necks
remember, remember
to check the sheets for spiders
may 24, 12
built around our heads like a garland
across our arms like the satin
edging of wide-woven blanket
the girls whip the sheets to wake spiders
beat the pillows against the walls
and promise to wake while the windows are still blue
the father roams and stacks his boots
steel worn as dull as leather
and leather worn as thin as words that count
he stacks pale dishes above their rims with food
passes it around, settles, then dusted
away again by words, like gnats from the garden
the mother, the mother
checks our crowns for thistles
and beetles, repeating the lists
of things that chew shotgun holes
in the night, things that hide
she traces careful incisions with her beak
on the napes of our necks
remember, remember
to check the sheets for spiders
may 24, 12
While She Sleeps
I listen to your whole body
every part is part of you
used from fuse to spark
lit at every end
from the fresh ember of breath
nothing cools in the whir of the world
you newly spin on
i blow in your hair
and draw in the momentary incense
rising, smelling like everything
i no longer believe in
so just for you i close my eyes
just to light as you light
just to pretend what you know
eyes only good for distances
the nose can bring in through the body
retracting close enough to thread
through that cavity
expanding back out just
in front of your face
This is how you believe
eyes closed
may 24, 12
every part is part of you
used from fuse to spark
lit at every end
from the fresh ember of breath
nothing cools in the whir of the world
you newly spin on
i blow in your hair
and draw in the momentary incense
rising, smelling like everything
i no longer believe in
so just for you i close my eyes
just to light as you light
just to pretend what you know
eyes only good for distances
the nose can bring in through the body
retracting close enough to thread
through that cavity
expanding back out just
in front of your face
This is how you believe
eyes closed
may 24, 12
For Show
Moth shadows tilt as big as bats
and merge with sculpted black leaves
the sky draws a close curtain
and narrows a melted light across the audience
changing tiny into monstrous
and for show, the shadows of their bobbing heads
resembling everything else
tangled in a rising midnight wind.
may 24, 12
and merge with sculpted black leaves
the sky draws a close curtain
and narrows a melted light across the audience
changing tiny into monstrous
and for show, the shadows of their bobbing heads
resembling everything else
tangled in a rising midnight wind.
may 24, 12
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)