the first snow
is a scent only
a waiting scent
a not yet scent
that something weighs heavy
overhead
and underfoot we
harden to support it,
not fooled by the first snow's
exaggerated list .
Nov 28, 2010
Where Crying Makes Sense
There is a country where
crying sounds
are all cymbal and fire cracker
no crescendo just
sound until it's not sound
and not air just --
Those sounds that drive madness
drive the mind
out of possession
with marching and matches
hands breaking themselves into
the sound they need to make
for crying to make sense
for nothing to make sense.
Oct 30, 2010
crying sounds
are all cymbal and fire cracker
no crescendo just
sound until it's not sound
and not air just --
Those sounds that drive madness
drive the mind
out of possession
with marching and matches
hands breaking themselves into
the sound they need to make
for crying to make sense
for nothing to make sense.
Oct 30, 2010
The Long Afternoon
The girl will stay small
To get bigger would be
To grow out of love
To break the seams of
The home she’s been able to console
Herself with knowing
It’s not but where else
Don’t you remember the truth
Of playing orphans or boxcar children
In the trees out of sight of the house
Don’t you remember how it thrilled
To be so close to discovering if not this
Then what was true
It was just a play just an afternoon we’d
Continue next time you came
One continuous afternoon
Dealing with the disappointments of indoors
The betrayal of evenings
That moved around us like family but
We couldn’t seem to touch
The weather was never bad enough to stop
Us playing our games to find out
What was what.
oct 30, 2010
Northmoss
Ever lost in the woods
ever washed of self
assurance, path, northmoss
the hour grows -
but still there,
under the unpatterned
shadow spindles
the drunken doily of
undergrowth and overture -
No one's there, recalling
but you seem to know
what is needed
your feet, the bending bones
the arch of them
under over (over) under -
It's not an original response
you're possessed,
you're weaving
under over (over) under.
And the lichen smells like food
the rocks like drink
you're lost, and ever lost
clean washed of yourself.
Oct 6, 2010
ever washed of self
assurance, path, northmoss
the hour grows -
but still there,
under the unpatterned
shadow spindles
the drunken doily of
undergrowth and overture -
No one's there, recalling
but you seem to know
what is needed
your feet, the bending bones
the arch of them
under over (over) under -
It's not an original response
you're possessed,
you're weaving
under over (over) under.
And the lichen smells like food
the rocks like drink
you're lost, and ever lost
clean washed of yourself.
Oct 6, 2010
Stealer Friend
She had an idea
after I had tried to steal all the electricity
but it flickered between my hands
after she had tried to escape
but found the horizontal waters
might as well be a gate
so she had a point
when she said I should steal the Pacific
fold it neatly
just a freshly washed tablecloth
to rest our elbows on.
Sept 24, 2010
after I had tried to steal all the electricity
but it flickered between my hands
after she had tried to escape
but found the horizontal waters
might as well be a gate
so she had a point
when she said I should steal the Pacific
fold it neatly
just a freshly washed tablecloth
to rest our elbows on.
Sept 24, 2010
A Life Shed
A life drops its pretensions
its mourners come closer
less and less sure
what their days were about before
gradually gaining on one another
gradually sure that here at least
is a place to be
between one another.
sept, 24, 2010
its mourners come closer
less and less sure
what their days were about before
gradually gaining on one another
gradually sure that here at least
is a place to be
between one another.
sept, 24, 2010
The Oxfords
scuff the seams of the soles
the threads heavy loosen
the weave of hatch scuff relax
scuff a wrist across its mouth
to dry scuff as the pavement
the arch scuff the wings scuff the tongue
scuff the laces
the world scuff apart around them
they match scuff together on their way.
sept 15, 2010
the threads heavy loosen
the weave of hatch scuff relax
scuff a wrist across its mouth
to dry scuff as the pavement
the arch scuff the wings scuff the tongue
scuff the laces
the world scuff apart around them
they match scuff together on their way.
sept 15, 2010
Slide After Slide
The world becomes a picture
not yet dry, sticking against its frame
the singe of street lamps in a sunset skin
their early flare, warming through still summer canopies
they contract, more distinct, now leaves
singular and sifting against others
in the sudden early night
or at least a dimmer slide of light
the projector clacks
the late and long transparencies pass
and here the world is drying
in new textures.
sept 15, 2010
not yet dry, sticking against its frame
the singe of street lamps in a sunset skin
their early flare, warming through still summer canopies
they contract, more distinct, now leaves
singular and sifting against others
in the sudden early night
or at least a dimmer slide of light
the projector clacks
the late and long transparencies pass
and here the world is drying
in new textures.
sept 15, 2010
Time to Lie
you don't have time to clear your throat
by the time we meet eyes
we have lied
then of course the next thing
is to assault and batter
your mouth with mine
my nouns threaten and verbs fist up
all we can do
there's just enough time
to drop our faces in hands and hands in our laps
to silently meet all blind
and inchoate.
Sept 15, 2010
by the time we meet eyes
we have lied
then of course the next thing
is to assault and batter
your mouth with mine
my nouns threaten and verbs fist up
all we can do
there's just enough time
to drop our faces in hands and hands in our laps
to silently meet all blind
and inchoate.
Sept 15, 2010
Pinning
If I could see the stars -
but look at these clouds.
When you ask for the answer
a pin through the wing
scatters meaning
tears what you have
and eventually even that
dust dries without its colours.
sept 7, 2010
but look at these clouds.
When you ask for the answer
a pin through the wing
scatters meaning
tears what you have
and eventually even that
dust dries without its colours.
sept 7, 2010
From the Shades
With the sun in my eyes
I stare into the shades
hard, because from there is where
the next thing comes
alongside me races
the long-haired boys
different textiles
of the same dream
the boys that saunter
towards me ever
with things, something
to say, but
I don't want to hear.
Stay in the shades.
I'll stare from here
with the sun in my eyes.
Sept 7, 2010
I stare into the shades
hard, because from there is where
the next thing comes
alongside me races
the long-haired boys
different textiles
of the same dream
the boys that saunter
towards me ever
with things, something
to say, but
I don't want to hear.
Stay in the shades.
I'll stare from here
with the sun in my eyes.
Sept 7, 2010
English as a Second Language
Language is re-entering
a return from lurking along
leads that it was not wholly lucid of
it learned a lot.
all alone
it understood that it is its own rule
complete with goals and shoulds
but that did not equal any thing
but only one thing
that it includes its own limits
that it was liminal
limited infinite
and only then did it return to me.
sept 15, 2010
a return from lurking along
leads that it was not wholly lucid of
it learned a lot.
all alone
it understood that it is its own rule
complete with goals and shoulds
but that did not equal any thing
but only one thing
that it includes its own limits
that it was liminal
limited infinite
and only then did it return to me.
sept 15, 2010
To Fall For
The first thing to fall for is beauty
the second is imperfection, shy from the first
The third is restlessness
and the fourth its alliterative particular, reticence
there are more to fall
headlong into the crowded world for.
Sept 1, 10
the second is imperfection, shy from the first
The third is restlessness
and the fourth its alliterative particular, reticence
there are more to fall
headlong into the crowded world for.
Sept 1, 10
A Merge
language speaks us like water pulls at our lips
when the roar of the trees and
your muffled heart get confused
when the silk of a scarf and
you notice the silk of a forearm
didn't begin merging
but were
the same from the start
which is when?
sept 1, 10
The Mountain Pass
We dare again
the mountain pass
the smother of shut earth
shut stars
We smile crazy or going
into one another's wide eyes
We dare the pass
we either demand or beg
our way against the winter
we are not shocked
that the earth is killing us
There are dreams of the downward
the lick of a valley
dry and warm as a cat's tongue
We made it last year
we dare again.
sept 13, 2001
the mountain pass
the smother of shut earth
shut stars
We smile crazy or going
into one another's wide eyes
We dare the pass
we either demand or beg
our way against the winter
we are not shocked
that the earth is killing us
There are dreams of the downward
the lick of a valley
dry and warm as a cat's tongue
We made it last year
we dare again.
sept 13, 2001
Dishonesty
the words are already lies
but what they do
and you do
it can't be mistaken
take their little dishonesties
and summon their hauntings
and if they are
you must hear the whine
of such weight on so little construction.
sept13, 10
but what they do
and you do
it can't be mistaken
take their little dishonesties
and summon their hauntings
and if they are
you must hear the whine
of such weight on so little construction.
sept13, 10
An Agreement
If your bards are to be believed
the weight you wedge in my heart is your beat
the coming train dissolved in sound, your blood
the lake, its insisting breakers, your birth
and the mattressed graves of enemies and friends, your bed.
You may only break my heart
if then the bards will sing me with you,
dying but acting natural.
Aug 10, 2010
the weight you wedge in my heart is your beat
the coming train dissolved in sound, your blood
the lake, its insisting breakers, your birth
and the mattressed graves of enemies and friends, your bed.
You may only break my heart
if then the bards will sing me with you,
dying but acting natural.
Aug 10, 2010
A November Spring
We were foreigners
you could tell
our bodies much too eager
and our whoops much too soon
for the season.
The others, the citizens,
snuggled into the sand
as if they'd been there all winter
and had only now been uncovered.
The water was too cold
it tried to tell us not yet
But we did not have time to wait
we'd be home soon, land locked
So we let our limbs lose blood
and let the waves toss them
as if this is how limbs naturally moved,
by a sudden treaty of coercion and concession.
We forgot that drowning was deadly
and could only think, this is how life is naturally ventured.
Aug 10, 2010
you could tell
our bodies much too eager
and our whoops much too soon
for the season.
The others, the citizens,
snuggled into the sand
as if they'd been there all winter
and had only now been uncovered.
The water was too cold
it tried to tell us not yet
But we did not have time to wait
we'd be home soon, land locked
So we let our limbs lose blood
and let the waves toss them
as if this is how limbs naturally moved,
by a sudden treaty of coercion and concession.
We forgot that drowning was deadly
and could only think, this is how life is naturally ventured.
Aug 10, 2010
Trying to Mean. Trying to Skate.
I can't tell you about the skateboard
about the childhood
I tried but. It came out as
a lie. a try.
"Please stop trying
to say more than you mean."
I tell my mouth.
But you are listening
I'm not sure if you hear silence
as I do. truth. truth. truth.
Intimately.
I'd like this not to take long.
so long. There are things
I want to know. to share.
But they won't last forever
they will grow up and fly.
Their magic left in my heart only.
Aug 6, 2010
about the childhood
I tried but. It came out as
a lie. a try.
"Please stop trying
to say more than you mean."
I tell my mouth.
But you are listening
I'm not sure if you hear silence
as I do. truth. truth. truth.
Intimately.
I'd like this not to take long.
so long. There are things
I want to know. to share.
But they won't last forever
they will grow up and fly.
Their magic left in my heart only.
Aug 6, 2010
The New Mao
Today, Mao was driving a car,
an American or maybe even Japanese,
but he wasn't who he was
he wasn't anybody
special or terrible.
He lived here. In the nice,
if old, apartments with garages.
He wasn't any more
harmful than other old men
who are only going to die
or who pull a car out of the garage.
He was no longer
special.
And those students. Those
young ones. They never heard
of him.
They never asked him for their lives
and the freedom it takes to live.
They never knew him.
But they didn't know
what's worth living until the last minute for
either.
Maybe that's not important when
they've got plenty to live long for.
But in that old past,
they lived so well, if shortly.
Aug 10, 2010
an American or maybe even Japanese,
but he wasn't who he was
he wasn't anybody
special or terrible.
He lived here. In the nice,
if old, apartments with garages.
He wasn't any more
harmful than other old men
who are only going to die
or who pull a car out of the garage.
He was no longer
special.
And those students. Those
young ones. They never heard
of him.
They never asked him for their lives
and the freedom it takes to live.
They never knew him.
But they didn't know
what's worth living until the last minute for
either.
Maybe that's not important when
they've got plenty to live long for.
But in that old past,
they lived so well, if shortly.
Aug 10, 2010
Woman
Of course he makes you feel like a woman,
but when you wake in the morning
there's something more you'd like to feel,
like a mindless animal meditating on a dirt path
like a car window empty and open for wind
like a slab of sunlight leaning on a brick wall in an alley.
These things are worth feeling like, too.
Aug 14, 2010
but when you wake in the morning
there's something more you'd like to feel,
like a mindless animal meditating on a dirt path
like a car window empty and open for wind
like a slab of sunlight leaning on a brick wall in an alley.
These things are worth feeling like, too.
Aug 14, 2010
A Fore-casted Storm
I am waiting for a thunderstorm
fore-casted for twelve a.m.,
but now not until one.
It will last until sunrise,
only then amounting to drizzle
thin enough for the day's colour
to cast itself against our heads.
And what am I expecting?
To pray easier than I do in the daylight
where there's no resistance to casting lines
as if in a clear pool where you can
see your catch at all times?
Is there something in the dark and rain
the thunder crumble
lightning rent?
Is there something in the terror and attraction?
The magnet of losing my mustard seed
in the luster of a storm?
Aug 2, 2010
fore-casted for twelve a.m.,
but now not until one.
It will last until sunrise,
only then amounting to drizzle
thin enough for the day's colour
to cast itself against our heads.
And what am I expecting?
To pray easier than I do in the daylight
where there's no resistance to casting lines
as if in a clear pool where you can
see your catch at all times?
Is there something in the dark and rain
the thunder crumble
lightning rent?
Is there something in the terror and attraction?
The magnet of losing my mustard seed
in the luster of a storm?
Aug 2, 2010
Passers-by
The good-smelling men
an the good-smelling girls go by
wiping out the over-ripe alleys
leaving them behind,
and behind them
thoughts of other good-smelling men
and good-smelling girls
who wiped out your over-ripe confidence
when they lingered instead of passing by.
July 31, 2010
an the good-smelling girls go by
wiping out the over-ripe alleys
leaving them behind,
and behind them
thoughts of other good-smelling men
and good-smelling girls
who wiped out your over-ripe confidence
when they lingered instead of passing by.
July 31, 2010
I'd Like To Carry On Without You
City, you are always
hiding the dark of the sky from me.
I'd like to carry on without your lights.
You require a bag on my shoulders
to keep me moving, moveable.
I'd like to carry on bare, without it.
City, you put yourself into syllables
I'm supposed to fill in the crosswords
with words I don't recognize.
I'd rather not read another sentence
I'd like to carry on without you.
City, you say stand up
give me your perpendicular feet
they ache, register nothing
I'd like to carry on without them.
Back to the clover eyes only up
and not sweeping their corners
for what I wouldn't expect.
July 30, 2010
hiding the dark of the sky from me.
I'd like to carry on without your lights.
You require a bag on my shoulders
to keep me moving, moveable.
I'd like to carry on bare, without it.
City, you put yourself into syllables
I'm supposed to fill in the crosswords
with words I don't recognize.
I'd rather not read another sentence
I'd like to carry on without you.
City, you say stand up
give me your perpendicular feet
they ache, register nothing
I'd like to carry on without them.
Back to the clover eyes only up
and not sweeping their corners
for what I wouldn't expect.
July 30, 2010
The Usual and Occasional Airplane
The usual airplane
slides straight towards the east
straight over head in two dimensions
On occasion, I don't know the specifics,
one turns
its pilot leans into the angle
its passengers lean into their windows
stunned that the earth is still
there below, as all along.
The people looking up
find their breath leaving
with a new intention
to never return.
July 30, 2010
slides straight towards the east
straight over head in two dimensions
On occasion, I don't know the specifics,
one turns
its pilot leans into the angle
its passengers lean into their windows
stunned that the earth is still
there below, as all along.
The people looking up
find their breath leaving
with a new intention
to never return.
July 30, 2010
Glow-White and Tan
A woman of little luxuries
tiny burns scar up into shiny designs
A little casket of minced herbs
forgets her nightmares or
how it's been
since she remembered one.
A baby penknife and a runny pen
make skin into deep, fleshed over reminders
Woman of little creativities
adding curly suffixes to curses
adding children's jewelry to her her collarbone
at once specked glow-white and tan.
June 22, 2010
tiny burns scar up into shiny designs
A little casket of minced herbs
forgets her nightmares or
how it's been
since she remembered one.
A baby penknife and a runny pen
make skin into deep, fleshed over reminders
Woman of little creativities
adding curly suffixes to curses
adding children's jewelry to her her collarbone
at once specked glow-white and tan.
June 22, 2010
For the Time Being
For the time when
the tongue is sewn
tight by some mad surgeon
for when
the fingers break
instead of bend in response
for when
the beauty or goodness
or truth in heart
tries to sound dishonest,
decayed, or not at all
in the hearts it approaches.
For the time being
I will not regret
these shames,
but add their intentions
to the time
when the image of God
succeeds in itself.
july 30, 2010
the tongue is sewn
tight by some mad surgeon
for when
the fingers break
instead of bend in response
for when
the beauty or goodness
or truth in heart
tries to sound dishonest,
decayed, or not at all
in the hearts it approaches.
For the time being
I will not regret
these shames,
but add their intentions
to the time
when the image of God
succeeds in itself.
july 30, 2010
Up Under the Eaves
Up under the eaves
time re-convenes
from the corners
it has explored
in high disguise
as minutes and hours.
Lately they hum
in passing.
But here in the attic
the windows and walls
thicken with now
muscles softer
than plaster, but firm
hold up the night
breathing evenly, counting
in cicada tides.
july 23, 2010
time re-convenes
from the corners
it has explored
in high disguise
as minutes and hours.
Lately they hum
in passing.
But here in the attic
the windows and walls
thicken with now
muscles softer
than plaster, but firm
hold up the night
breathing evenly, counting
in cicada tides.
july 23, 2010
Out in the Rain
It doesn't rain often
we should get caught
the net of colour and light
presses Doing to the ground
there it scrapes
in the gravel for what we Are.
July 20, 2010
we should get caught
the net of colour and light
presses Doing to the ground
there it scrapes
in the gravel for what we Are.
July 20, 2010
Shaky
Shaky from crossing so many bridges
and never leaping,
from wearing so many days in shoes
and never forgetting
them in the grass somewhere in a shadow.
Shaky from love never said, not knowing
where I begin and anything,
anyone else ends.
Shaky from never asking
my sister why we're so honest but incoherent.
Shaky from that song that seemed
to climb up my legs pulling me,
wanting me to breathe underwater again.
Shaky from a pen that slides
past words and mis-spells it all
coding my love in nonsense.
Shaky from the reflection of birds below,
making me believe
a moment that I wasn't dreaming.
Shaky from the small weight
of my heart between my shoulders tumbling.
july 3, 2010
and never leaping,
from wearing so many days in shoes
and never forgetting
them in the grass somewhere in a shadow.
Shaky from love never said, not knowing
where I begin and anything,
anyone else ends.
Shaky from never asking
my sister why we're so honest but incoherent.
Shaky from that song that seemed
to climb up my legs pulling me,
wanting me to breathe underwater again.
Shaky from a pen that slides
past words and mis-spells it all
coding my love in nonsense.
Shaky from the reflection of birds below,
making me believe
a moment that I wasn't dreaming.
Shaky from the small weight
of my heart between my shoulders tumbling.
july 3, 2010
Dimensions
Time is gone
long since but
we love it so, we
count its leaves
its sheaves its
stacks bound
in twine, the old
fashioned detail
binds its weight
together. Much
too heavy for any
of us now
to pick up
and take with us.
july 15, 2010
long since but
we love it so, we
count its leaves
its sheaves its
stacks bound
in twine, the old
fashioned detail
binds its weight
together. Much
too heavy for any
of us now
to pick up
and take with us.
july 15, 2010
Walls and Flame
The city's got her
in its walls and flames
in the sound flood water makes
under the streets and through the grate
Whisper "let's meet"
in the turns of phrases
in the toppling willow shade
Hold the dare in our mouths
touching our own ribs
making a careful crease
making sure
there's room for one
in here next to me.
july 27, 2010
in its walls and flames
in the sound flood water makes
under the streets and through the grate
Whisper "let's meet"
in the turns of phrases
in the toppling willow shade
Hold the dare in our mouths
touching our own ribs
making a careful crease
making sure
there's room for one
in here next to me.
july 27, 2010
The Sun Will Rise Fifteen Minutes Later
The sun will rise fifteen minutes
later than yesterday
And there are new tiny veins
that remind me of my grandmother
running around my calf
The temperature will drop three degrees, thank God,
in the next hour
And one afternoon will add to another
and add up to a friendship
Little dreams that are nothing more –
sorting a stack of books, making space –
will amount, eventually, to something.
Little lines that don’t seem to stick,
but fade, will amount -
the “and”s are there to connect them -
to something.
july 14, 2010
later than yesterday
And there are new tiny veins
that remind me of my grandmother
running around my calf
The temperature will drop three degrees, thank God,
in the next hour
And one afternoon will add to another
and add up to a friendship
Little dreams that are nothing more –
sorting a stack of books, making space –
will amount, eventually, to something.
Little lines that don’t seem to stick,
but fade, will amount -
the “and”s are there to connect them -
to something.
july 14, 2010
Blue Birthday Poem
My birthday is blue and white
a flagging sky not done turning,
a little tired of the effort
but drinking the wind
like gin through its teeth.
My birthday is a tee shirt, a skirt,
and hair as long as it's ever been
dusting dreams from the late morning.
My birthday is the matte envelope
a peony slides from
and the ceramic waves it glazes
blue and neon.
june 26, 2010
a flagging sky not done turning,
a little tired of the effort
but drinking the wind
like gin through its teeth.
My birthday is a tee shirt, a skirt,
and hair as long as it's ever been
dusting dreams from the late morning.
My birthday is the matte envelope
a peony slides from
and the ceramic waves it glazes
blue and neon.
june 26, 2010
Envelopes
How is the sun rise so different from its set?
How is one so opaque, dense with beginning
and the other like coloured tissue slipping,
complicated and spent?
One pours over a body, burying it
the other pours through it, sifting
lifting the worthwhile over the trees
and leaving just ash on a bench.
How do they repeat their concentration daily
never letting it seem like before?
july 3, 2010
How is one so opaque, dense with beginning
and the other like coloured tissue slipping,
complicated and spent?
One pours over a body, burying it
the other pours through it, sifting
lifting the worthwhile over the trees
and leaving just ash on a bench.
How do they repeat their concentration daily
never letting it seem like before?
july 3, 2010
Bird Lives
The moment before a frozen bird
leaves itself to the sidewalk
does it try its best
to look over its shoulder
at its folded wing
remembering how
it hurt as it grew
hollow filaments
strong enough to lift it over
the layers of day and night
Does it think
it was worth it?
july 3, 2010
leaves itself to the sidewalk
does it try its best
to look over its shoulder
at its folded wing
remembering how
it hurt as it grew
hollow filaments
strong enough to lift it over
the layers of day and night
Does it think
it was worth it?
july 3, 2010
Props
Show your teeth
and shock me
with a new sound
slipping off them
there's a bed post
in my old bedroom
there's a swing the
children abandon in
the heat of the weekend
there's a cigarette
in my drawer
that must taste
bitter as your skin.
These props we tempura painted
for the scenes I write
stand for flight
the reality our
faces encase
our words weigh
trying hard to believe what we
meant to pretend.
But that sound blinding me
in its secret
leaves us bare and
light again.
july 3, 2010
and shock me
with a new sound
slipping off them
there's a bed post
in my old bedroom
there's a swing the
children abandon in
the heat of the weekend
there's a cigarette
in my drawer
that must taste
bitter as your skin.
These props we tempura painted
for the scenes I write
stand for flight
the reality our
faces encase
our words weigh
trying hard to believe what we
meant to pretend.
But that sound blinding me
in its secret
leaves us bare and
light again.
july 3, 2010
Getting Away
The ants crawl over
a body but
it can't feel much
different than
the itch of a river
a coast
a field
flat as a runway
and the way they
disappear
without me.
july 3, 2010
a body but
it can't feel much
different than
the itch of a river
a coast
a field
flat as a runway
and the way they
disappear
without me.
july 3, 2010
Company
If only I were left
in the company of my toes
the little calluses of summer
the thirst behind my tongue
and behind my ear canal
the chimes of river light
the fading day
taking my concern for
whatever else there is
aside from my teeth on lips
clothes contrasting my skin.
july 3, 2010
in the company of my toes
the little calluses of summer
the thirst behind my tongue
and behind my ear canal
the chimes of river light
the fading day
taking my concern for
whatever else there is
aside from my teeth on lips
clothes contrasting my skin.
july 3, 2010
Creases
So like a child I
am intimidated
and amused, both,
by well-creased cynicism.
I can smile at it but
not open my mouth
It's so dry
my breath wouldn't
make a fog.
july 3, 2010
am intimidated
and amused, both,
by well-creased cynicism.
I can smile at it but
not open my mouth
It's so dry
my breath wouldn't
make a fog.
july 3, 2010
As Far As This Train Goes
As far as this train goes
as far as this night goes
it's 11:30 and that's as
far as this cigarette goes
a second drink will slow
a moment, the simple time,
into a material of love
pulling an hour into an
almost repeating pattern
leaves backlit to prove
place is as important as weather
for wandering shades to recognize
the bodies of one another.
july 4, 2010
as far as this night goes
it's 11:30 and that's as
far as this cigarette goes
a second drink will slow
a moment, the simple time,
into a material of love
pulling an hour into an
almost repeating pattern
leaves backlit to prove
place is as important as weather
for wandering shades to recognize
the bodies of one another.
july 4, 2010
Run Through
Doors askance
accidents
my pink once flushed
bones
try to ignore
the thrash of open doors
smearing recognition
under my skin
verving out of control
My bones shush
clatter colours
while doors and accidents
run me through.
july 4, 2010
accidents
my pink once flushed
bones
try to ignore
the thrash of open doors
smearing recognition
under my skin
verving out of control
My bones shush
clatter colours
while doors and accidents
run me through.
july 4, 2010
For Forgetting
The night threatened to give up
Before we did
The vines trailed
Thinking we’d come after
Conversation collapsed on the carpet
And the song lines stopped trying
To remind us of time.
july 4, 2010
Before we did
The vines trailed
Thinking we’d come after
Conversation collapsed on the carpet
And the song lines stopped trying
To remind us of time.
july 4, 2010
Things That Fall from Flight
Drink the starry airplane lights
the so-so hands of leaves.
I've never been afraid of
falling fireflies
failing sight.
Is the skin under your fingernails
as numb with would-be words
as mine?
Do your hands grow up
over your face
too fast?
I've never been afraid
of the closeness
of your voice up my spine
Or the moon falling to earth.
Jun 16, 2010
the so-so hands of leaves.
I've never been afraid of
falling fireflies
failing sight.
Is the skin under your fingernails
as numb with would-be words
as mine?
Do your hands grow up
over your face
too fast?
I've never been afraid
of the closeness
of your voice up my spine
Or the moon falling to earth.
Jun 16, 2010
Waking Woman
She swings her arms
they go over her head, knuckles first
they go below her knees, palms now.
She dusts the morning
wiping the corners where
the night catches she
wipes her eyes
stares into the clouds
to fill the whites and
drain the blacks
of their dream bath
murky with stillness.
June 12, 2010
they go over her head, knuckles first
they go below her knees, palms now.
She dusts the morning
wiping the corners where
the night catches she
wipes her eyes
stares into the clouds
to fill the whites and
drain the blacks
of their dream bath
murky with stillness.
June 12, 2010
Set
Talk slow
break the commas
over the breath
we're sharing
hold that blackened pen
still; the words it
would arrest
should sink to the hollow
horizon as free as light
as counted as
steps with a cane.
And before the coming
thrum, the next shape
of your tongue, the light has
turned reflection blue.
Jun 16, 2010
break the commas
over the breath
we're sharing
hold that blackened pen
still; the words it
would arrest
should sink to the hollow
horizon as free as light
as counted as
steps with a cane.
And before the coming
thrum, the next shape
of your tongue, the light has
turned reflection blue.
Jun 16, 2010
Lake Like a Body
Waves on the water
make scales on the body
The body
it cools under cover
of sleeping
then asks me out
though I don't belong to it
pointing out the tassels of hair
twisting for it
asking with never ending patterns
that lean on the opposite shore
then turn back for me.
June 12, 2010
make scales on the body
The body
it cools under cover
of sleeping
then asks me out
though I don't belong to it
pointing out the tassels of hair
twisting for it
asking with never ending patterns
that lean on the opposite shore
then turn back for me.
June 12, 2010
More Kin
Let's not fear dropping our
things in water that would
ruin them. Let's only
make it so
that as our calves harden
under the surface,
our love is not as thin
as ink. More kin
to waves of water
than to waves of ours.
Jun 12, 2010
things in water that would
ruin them. Let's only
make it so
that as our calves harden
under the surface,
our love is not as thin
as ink. More kin
to waves of water
than to waves of ours.
Jun 12, 2010
Art of Illiteracy
Someone thought they
owned language
and flailed it
across the bodies of others.
The another
forced to wear it
ill-fitting syllabary
forgot her old own
maybe, but not its meanings
She told hers
these are your clothes, yes
But under here,
she touched their skin
there are your meanings
our old own.
They will teach themselves to you.
She left with it tangled in her hair
maybe, but the hair of her children
smelled familiar
their skin warming under it
they found the offbeat
where language isn't anybody's.
It fit just right in their mouths.
Jun 4, 2010
owned language
and flailed it
across the bodies of others.
The another
forced to wear it
ill-fitting syllabary
forgot her old own
maybe, but not its meanings
She told hers
these are your clothes, yes
But under here,
she touched their skin
there are your meanings
our old own.
They will teach themselves to you.
She left with it tangled in her hair
maybe, but the hair of her children
smelled familiar
their skin warming under it
they found the offbeat
where language isn't anybody's.
It fit just right in their mouths.
Jun 4, 2010
not just
i just i just
wanted
(to know)
you to know
that well well
i never
(you know)
take the easy
make the easy
just (know)
it wasn't.
may 26, 2010
wanted
(to know)
you to know
that well well
i never
(you know)
take the easy
make the easy
just (know)
it wasn't.
may 26, 2010
This Whatever
This whatever
this watered word
this sway limb
does it bother tangle
with another what
another ever
that wanted word.
May 26, 2010
this watered word
this sway limb
does it bother tangle
with another what
another ever
that wanted word.
May 26, 2010
My Lovers
My lovers do not make me happy
They dig deep pits for my eyes
and the red blooming runes under them
were written and left
uninterpreted by my lovers, too.
Their iron sharpens iron
and smashes all else in me.
My hands wring dry as my
lovers lead me to the desert
disappearing to scout the coming heights.
I am left in terror
I am left in myself
at the bottom of a spirit
my lovers hollow
before they fill.
may 20, 2010
They dig deep pits for my eyes
and the red blooming runes under them
were written and left
uninterpreted by my lovers, too.
Their iron sharpens iron
and smashes all else in me.
My hands wring dry as my
lovers lead me to the desert
disappearing to scout the coming heights.
I am left in terror
I am left in myself
at the bottom of a spirit
my lovers hollow
before they fill.
may 20, 2010
HOW a non-fiction reader can read a fiction book
FIRST: Pretend it's from your daughter.
Not by her, FROM HER.
NEXT: and that she has something to
tell you but she doesn't know
the right jargon. She can just
barely make sentences. she can
just barely SPEAK.
THIRD: You may have to pretend
you're her to hear. Or pretend
you're anyone.
FOURTH: It's OKAY. We're not our selves.
we're all kinds of people.
LASTLY: even fiction readers.
may 14, 2010
Not by her, FROM HER.
NEXT: and that she has something to
tell you but she doesn't know
the right jargon. She can just
barely make sentences. she can
just barely SPEAK.
THIRD: You may have to pretend
you're her to hear. Or pretend
you're anyone.
FOURTH: It's OKAY. We're not our selves.
we're all kinds of people.
LASTLY: even fiction readers.
may 14, 2010
Pronunciations
It stormed - i mean the sky -
the cemetery walks - i mean i do -
new bark shed - cracked - peeled - slid -
from the done tree
new birds lying
around
an upside down cake - i mean nest -
shrink-wrapped flowers - roses -
new lopsides arrangements
of names
without pronunciations.
may 11, 2010
the cemetery walks - i mean i do -
new bark shed - cracked - peeled - slid -
from the done tree
new birds lying
around
an upside down cake - i mean nest -
shrink-wrapped flowers - roses -
new lopsides arrangements
of names
without pronunciations.
may 11, 2010
Out By Train
As the city walked away
its kissing dust shook from my cuffs
I made it into the wild
of where I've been before
Its kind of violence
welcomed me with
kisses of bruises
bites and shed skin
I could feel its hot shout
from states away.
April 23, 2010
its kissing dust shook from my cuffs
I made it into the wild
of where I've been before
Its kind of violence
welcomed me with
kisses of bruises
bites and shed skin
I could feel its hot shout
from states away.
April 23, 2010
Prints
The city has
its windows open
inside lit
I ride along side them
almost into them
behind my own open window.
We, the little color prints
in our frames
wonder at the sight
the wonder of one another
of our eyes open
almost close enough
to see into them.
Apr 20, 2010
its windows open
inside lit
I ride along side them
almost into them
behind my own open window.
We, the little color prints
in our frames
wonder at the sight
the wonder of one another
of our eyes open
almost close enough
to see into them.
Apr 20, 2010
Walks
we take the keys
and leave the door open
we wind our way through the wind
we share our dreams
and plant their meanings
we don't cool
over dropped ashes
we burn up awake
and stay awake when we sleep
the things we notice
we keep behind our ears
our mouths fill up
with words we don't want to forget
we slow smoke - no
we can't stay in the sidewalks
we dig the alleys
the behind, the underneaths
we obsessed with breathing
we litter the sidewalk cracks
with our winter memory
can they see our smile
under the city stars trying
in and out
we impatient for
our feet to callous to this city
so we can walk it over
for summer
we go out in jeans
come back in skirts
the forgetful rabbits
cover our tracks
with only our fingertips to light the way
we pick up where we left off
bitter and delicious
until it makes sense.
april 16, 2010
and leave the door open
we wind our way through the wind
we share our dreams
and plant their meanings
we don't cool
over dropped ashes
we burn up awake
and stay awake when we sleep
the things we notice
we keep behind our ears
our mouths fill up
with words we don't want to forget
we slow smoke - no
we can't stay in the sidewalks
we dig the alleys
the behind, the underneaths
we obsessed with breathing
we litter the sidewalk cracks
with our winter memory
can they see our smile
under the city stars trying
in and out
we impatient for
our feet to callous to this city
so we can walk it over
for summer
we go out in jeans
come back in skirts
the forgetful rabbits
cover our tracks
with only our fingertips to light the way
we pick up where we left off
bitter and delicious
until it makes sense.
april 16, 2010
Or Honesty
The things I'll give to you when you die
The walls of blankets I hung in my room
where I hid and hid
and named the colors
filtered by the hours.
The light through thin-veined leaves
that only veils
alone children.
The fear of wasps in the playhouse
you built tall
like the real trees.
And I ended up preferring them after it was painted.
I'll give you that tree house
the way it looked when I could just see it from inside the woods
maybe it's less painted now
Maybe the trees are
much much taller.
April 15, 2010
The walls of blankets I hung in my room
where I hid and hid
and named the colors
filtered by the hours.
The light through thin-veined leaves
that only veils
alone children.
The fear of wasps in the playhouse
you built tall
like the real trees.
And I ended up preferring them after it was painted.
I'll give you that tree house
the way it looked when I could just see it from inside the woods
maybe it's less painted now
Maybe the trees are
much much taller.
April 15, 2010
She Stays
No shame or remembrance
of the dead
I click with winter bone hands
but hers were
not this hard
ever deep and making room for
the things in them
why did we leave her
with only tissue to hold
She never feels Away
but I cannot get back
we left her somewhere
and my breaking hands shrink
with shame
or remembrance
of where I left the dead.
April 15, 2010
of the dead
I click with winter bone hands
but hers were
not this hard
ever deep and making room for
the things in them
why did we leave her
with only tissue to hold
She never feels Away
but I cannot get back
we left her somewhere
and my breaking hands shrink
with shame
or remembrance
of where I left the dead.
April 15, 2010
Ascension Hem
The atlas kicks at my hems
and I'm not sure I'm ascending
or just pulling the trees
up to my chin
Bees hemhaw the petal skin
is it the same as
my wilting, your dry pen
growing thick with
something skyward?
April 15, 2010
and I'm not sure I'm ascending
or just pulling the trees
up to my chin
Bees hemhaw the petal skin
is it the same as
my wilting, your dry pen
growing thick with
something skyward?
April 15, 2010
The Vague Season
The chlorophyll fizz
hit the brain
an opposite avalanche
grew vague
the light stood aside
making room
slurried lines
and just like that
one afternoon
hand in our hair
yawn in our hand
just like that we forgot
the stone our best hearts
are chipped from.
April 12, 2010
hit the brain
an opposite avalanche
grew vague
the light stood aside
making room
slurried lines
and just like that
one afternoon
hand in our hair
yawn in our hand
just like that we forgot
the stone our best hearts
are chipped from.
April 12, 2010
The Laughing Heroes
She asked what hurts
nothing.
Not this question,
it always makes me too quiet
My ears and mouth deciding
I need time alone
but I just want to hear
those kids laughing
wading up the concrete tide
with nothing hurt.
April 11, 2010
nothing.
Not this question,
it always makes me too quiet
My ears and mouth deciding
I need time alone
but I just want to hear
those kids laughing
wading up the concrete tide
with nothing hurt.
April 11, 2010
The Other Colours Bird
The black bird
that's not black
but blue and gold
and maybe a thousand other colors
creaks like its whole body
is just a hinge
makes you think
someone's coming through the door
even if you're not around any
The black bird makes you think
I wonder
what other colors?
Apr 10, 2010
that's not black
but blue and gold
and maybe a thousand other colors
creaks like its whole body
is just a hinge
makes you think
someone's coming through the door
even if you're not around any
The black bird makes you think
I wonder
what other colors?
Apr 10, 2010
Notebook
The spine broken
held together on
the merit of its sentences
but they are slapping
at my hands
open mail slots
on wet hinges.
Apr 8, 2010
held together on
the merit of its sentences
but they are slapping
at my hands
open mail slots
on wet hinges.
Apr 8, 2010
The Always Boy
Who are you, boy?
You'll always be boy to me
You ain't nothing
You're your momma's
You're your poppa's
but that's two things
because they ain't each other's
anymore.
Who are you, boy
anymore?
Are you your hands
their angles, their weight and color
Which side?
The open side
or the tops
that's two different things.
Or are you your eyes
folding over those hands
the almost pupil-shade irises
their almost somewhere else tilt
difficult to find the way in
difficult to find the way out.
Are you the warm teeth in my imagination
or the cold snow we last stood on?
Apr 8, 2010
You'll always be boy to me
You ain't nothing
You're your momma's
You're your poppa's
but that's two things
because they ain't each other's
anymore.
Who are you, boy
anymore?
Are you your hands
their angles, their weight and color
Which side?
The open side
or the tops
that's two different things.
Or are you your eyes
folding over those hands
the almost pupil-shade irises
their almost somewhere else tilt
difficult to find the way in
difficult to find the way out.
Are you the warm teeth in my imagination
or the cold snow we last stood on?
Apr 8, 2010
End Season Chores
There are chores before the cold season ends.
Finish the box of cigarettes
shake the cold out of my hair
fire proof the wilting notebook
wear the felt boots once more
sit on a bus cozy with strangers
find the boxes of warm blood
in the closet
unknot my fists
write the eulogy
memorize the crocheted skeletons
send the ghosts home safely
go to bed without them.
Apr 8, 2010
Finish the box of cigarettes
shake the cold out of my hair
fire proof the wilting notebook
wear the felt boots once more
sit on a bus cozy with strangers
find the boxes of warm blood
in the closet
unknot my fists
write the eulogy
memorize the crocheted skeletons
send the ghosts home safely
go to bed without them.
Apr 8, 2010
Needle Eyes
The sun finds a way
of tripping me up
and pulling me through needle eyes
and black birds
into its garment of
trailing ends.
ap 6, 2010
of tripping me up
and pulling me through needle eyes
and black birds
into its garment of
trailing ends.
ap 6, 2010
Useless
When I'm not here
the date fades useless
the spine of books loosen
pages in my hand
to mouth
The silhouettes lace with their silos
and ignore the difference
of languages.
the date fades useless
the spine of books loosen
pages in my hand
to mouth
The silhouettes lace with their silos
and ignore the difference
of languages.
Beggars Waiting
The occasional death
at the end of a day
heralded by
airplane roars
and skin white apparitions
say
sounds that only slip
around the folded
hem of my
piercable ears
then give up.
A moment of nothing,
or close to it,
before the crippled everything
returns to beg.
ap 6, 2010
at the end of a day
heralded by
airplane roars
and skin white apparitions
say
sounds that only slip
around the folded
hem of my
piercable ears
then give up.
A moment of nothing,
or close to it,
before the crippled everything
returns to beg.
ap 6, 2010
Temperature at the End
The end of a season
burns my fingers
warming them close to ashes.
Are the days more than
cardboard and rain.
I reach for the next
and fall headlong
into its drizzle.
ap 6, 2010
burns my fingers
warming them close to ashes.
Are the days more than
cardboard and rain.
I reach for the next
and fall headlong
into its drizzle.
ap 6, 2010
The Other Hemisphere
One cloud slides over the sky
as my hand slides over you
crossing without comprehension
touching but not being
and soon that cloud is exhausted
into the other hemisphere
and I pass by you
crossing over
into another hemisphere
entirely uninhabited by you.
ap 6, 2010
as my hand slides over you
crossing without comprehension
touching but not being
and soon that cloud is exhausted
into the other hemisphere
and I pass by you
crossing over
into another hemisphere
entirely uninhabited by you.
ap 6, 2010
Professional Mourner
One match left
the ease of breathing
lets go
the ease of being
other than the wind
puckers and inhales
the grave of winter buckles
I am one professional mourner
of the buried season
deep in its grave
unrecognized. risen.
I am one professional inhaler
of empty air
heavy with nothing
prickling my legs
as I swing.
Ap 6, 2010
the ease of breathing
lets go
the ease of being
other than the wind
puckers and inhales
the grave of winter buckles
I am one professional mourner
of the buried season
deep in its grave
unrecognized. risen.
I am one professional inhaler
of empty air
heavy with nothing
prickling my legs
as I swing.
Ap 6, 2010
Meringue
Meringue skirt about knees
meringue hair please
don't stop whipping
winning me over
to Spring.
Apr. 2, 2010
meringue hair please
don't stop whipping
winning me over
to Spring.
Apr. 2, 2010
Wind Pouring
Breath pouring into the
wind pouring
sifting nests from trees
sifting breath from teeth
Pink blood pouring
into lips
sifting plans from histories
Memory pouring
memorizing lines
lips lifting
breath from the wind
lifting lines
until I can
until
effortlessly breathe them.
mar 25, 2010
wind pouring
sifting nests from trees
sifting breath from teeth
Pink blood pouring
into lips
sifting plans from histories
Memory pouring
memorizing lines
lips lifting
breath from the wind
lifting lines
until I can
until
effortlessly breathe them.
mar 25, 2010
Rosary Beads
Strand invisible
slings low
strung with mostly ghost meanings
and their slack strung kin:
words slipped onto a line,
shiny and hard,
slack in the making
of space for their ghosts.
Mar 25, 2010
slings low
strung with mostly ghost meanings
and their slack strung kin:
words slipped onto a line,
shiny and hard,
slack in the making
of space for their ghosts.
Mar 25, 2010
Prayers Underfoot
Knees are the only
true feet
And these feet
are unnatural pretensions
mute in the worst way
not holding words back
but scattering them.
Mar 23, 2010
true feet
And these feet
are unnatural pretensions
mute in the worst way
not holding words back
but scattering them.
Mar 23, 2010
Inarticulate
Wing chair silence
curls into my mouth and ears
says nothing
is okay
to say
upholstery hush
bends under my weight
inarticulate
crushed.
Mar 19, 2010
curls into my mouth and ears
says nothing
is okay
to say
upholstery hush
bends under my weight
inarticulate
crushed.
Mar 19, 2010
We are the Written
We are the written
the erasers
of spoken
the silence
between us
is full of translation.
mar 11, 2010
the erasers
of spoken
the silence
between us
is full of translation.
mar 11, 2010
Coat
A coat blown open
let too much in
between the layers of
arms legs hands
of hems seams hems
blown far too open
to hide what's missing.
mar 11, 2010
let too much in
between the layers of
arms legs hands
of hems seams hems
blown far too open
to hide what's missing.
mar 11, 2010
Not I, That You Are
Don't reach for me-
lean into me.
Don't search
that me detail
out-
Just match
Just trade
your Are for
my No
And gasp
in the shadows
You didn't know
were so deep
or could create
you over
and again.
mar 11, 2010
lean into me.
Don't search
that me detail
out-
Just match
Just trade
your Are for
my No
And gasp
in the shadows
You didn't know
were so deep
or could create
you over
and again.
mar 11, 2010
Nondescript
Nondescript
the lips dropped
lied the lines
around a mouth
and out from eyes
there the color-no-color
dried.
Mouthed "lie."
mar 8, 2010
the lips dropped
lied the lines
around a mouth
and out from eyes
there the color-no-color
dried.
Mouthed "lie."
mar 8, 2010
Out, This Soul
Out of kindness
out of sentence
out of hands
out of reaching
out of blood
out of breath
this soul
missing form
missing bone
this soul
hunting gathering
shadows only
and not their casters.
Out of either
light or matter.
mar 8, 2010
out of sentence
out of hands
out of reaching
out of blood
out of breath
this soul
missing form
missing bone
this soul
hunting gathering
shadows only
and not their casters.
Out of either
light or matter.
mar 8, 2010
Deer
Something wounded runs
through the day
around my corners
just out
of seeing reach.
Some me thing
runs
at breathing pace
but out, out
of breath.
mar 8, 2010
through the day
around my corners
just out
of seeing reach.
Some me thing
runs
at breathing pace
but out, out
of breath.
mar 8, 2010
Cochlea Dreams
Cochlea dreams shudder
the seams blunder
the covers fold
and close my dreams
in their hems
sweat gleams silver cold
not rolling rising
just covering.
The canyon winds
lose direction
so hold my senses
long after the journey
the dark goes under.
mar 8, 2010
the seams blunder
the covers fold
and close my dreams
in their hems
sweat gleams silver cold
not rolling rising
just covering.
The canyon winds
lose direction
so hold my senses
long after the journey
the dark goes under.
mar 8, 2010
To Be Tall
To be tall
hairline jawline
eyeteeth say
to be better
earlobe collarbone
to over all
forehead
always be.
mar 8, 10
hairline jawline
eyeteeth say
to be better
earlobe collarbone
to over all
forehead
always be.
mar 8, 10
Still Smoking
I smell the underside
of your cigarette meanings
as they lay dying
writhing up still
as if you were breathing
I cover my face
you're gone
preferring my skin
without the dreams it tries to enter.
mar 8, 2010
of your cigarette meanings
as they lay dying
writhing up still
as if you were breathing
I cover my face
you're gone
preferring my skin
without the dreams it tries to enter.
mar 8, 2010
Ink Knuckles
You thought the ink
in my knuckles was mascara,
I thought it was
the bruise of giving in.
God is on a quickly-made stage
we keep our heads to the floor
not daring to look in his face
or chance that he has no face.
But the only hope I had
was we keeping our heads together
smelling your breath
fitting my lips to your eyelids
close. kiss. close. kiss.
Yes, maybe there is God
in front on stage
and with a face to look into.
And maybe the ink
on my knuckles is his shadow,
as close as your breath. my lips.
Mar 3, 2010
in my knuckles was mascara,
I thought it was
the bruise of giving in.
God is on a quickly-made stage
we keep our heads to the floor
not daring to look in his face
or chance that he has no face.
But the only hope I had
was we keeping our heads together
smelling your breath
fitting my lips to your eyelids
close. kiss. close. kiss.
Yes, maybe there is God
in front on stage
and with a face to look into.
And maybe the ink
on my knuckles is his shadow,
as close as your breath. my lips.
Mar 3, 2010
Hairline
Girl, you need a curve
to lower your tears into
not stack them
like shelves
but let them
fall
into a bend
in an arm
in a neck
and not have to name
them like children as
they leave you
not have to
remember your own name
as you fall
from the shelf
into a curve
of a waist
of a spine
of a hairline.
Mar 3, 2010
to lower your tears into
not stack them
like shelves
but let them
fall
into a bend
in an arm
in a neck
and not have to name
them like children as
they leave you
not have to
remember your own name
as you fall
from the shelf
into a curve
of a waist
of a spine
of a hairline.
Mar 3, 2010
The Guitar Singing Days
All to
gather we
sing like echoes
of long
since hushed guitars
long since
left spaces
carved in wood.
We let
them out
unbraided fibers
knots and strings
let out
our breath
and the space carved
there.
How will I draw in the next one
without us all to
gather we
could only sing
together.
mar 1, 10
gather we
sing like echoes
of long
since hushed guitars
long since
left spaces
carved in wood.
We let
them out
unbraided fibers
knots and strings
let out
our breath
and the space carved
there.
How will I draw in the next one
without us all to
gather we
could only sing
together.
mar 1, 10
Prairie Be
Doors need not fly wide,
all need not know
the name of the heart that walks
away from their noisy eyes.
Fold your arms like letter edges
and your legs like an envelope,
let a little hot breath
fill the tiny space between cupped hands
the tiny space in a cupped heart
a little whisper kindle
your ever secret eyes
your ever whisper spark.
And what they'll see they won't know,
they are seeing a prairie be
they are watching the being line
thin and thinner gone
clear and clearer rise.
feb 27, 2010
all need not know
the name of the heart that walks
away from their noisy eyes.
Fold your arms like letter edges
and your legs like an envelope,
let a little hot breath
fill the tiny space between cupped hands
the tiny space in a cupped heart
a little whisper kindle
your ever secret eyes
your ever whisper spark.
And what they'll see they won't know,
they are seeing a prairie be
they are watching the being line
thin and thinner gone
clear and clearer rise.
feb 27, 2010
Secret Us
The secret society of us
an organization of codes and calls
When I look at you sideskance,
when we walk a circle in the forest,
things never known about
Word masks we say
not like love or run,
words that mean very little
to anyone
but you and me when
read them in the personals.
Dec 10, 09
an organization of codes and calls
When I look at you sideskance,
when we walk a circle in the forest,
things never known about
Word masks we say
not like love or run,
words that mean very little
to anyone
but you and me when
read them in the personals.
Dec 10, 09
The Reflection Caster
The river black
the branches blacker
The sky slack
the horizon slacker
The city cast
the reflection caster.
Jan 21, 10
the branches blacker
The sky slack
the horizon slacker
The city cast
the reflection caster.
Jan 21, 10
Temperature
Hearth stones
hold and entomb
The passion of ashes
refusing to cool
to grey
to lessen
Larger than our backs
pressed side by side
turning temperatures
glowing fading
returning
Pull us to
procession
your build and lessen
into only temperature
holding only
willing ashes.
jan 21, 10
hold and entomb
The passion of ashes
refusing to cool
to grey
to lessen
Larger than our backs
pressed side by side
turning temperatures
glowing fading
returning
Pull us to
procession
your build and lessen
into only temperature
holding only
willing ashes.
jan 21, 10
Summer Skirt
Summer skirt
its fan and fold
its hem unravel
revel loose
threads and stain
wearing thin
rising like east
trailing like traincar
diving like wave
and bird on a fetter
sheet on a line
Summer on ever.
Jan 21, 10
its fan and fold
its hem unravel
revel loose
threads and stain
wearing thin
rising like east
trailing like traincar
diving like wave
and bird on a fetter
sheet on a line
Summer on ever.
Jan 21, 10
Envelope and Cigarette
The taste
of envelopes
and of cigarettes
of paper
and subtlety
of scar
reminding
skin reminding
color
what it is
what it isn't
what it tastes like
envelope and cigarette.
jan 21, 10
of envelopes
and of cigarettes
of paper
and subtlety
of scar
reminding
skin reminding
color
what it is
what it isn't
what it tastes like
envelope and cigarette.
jan 21, 10
On the Way Back
Champagne champagne,
you lovely thing,
you bubble my heart
you bumble my aim.
I go back to my childhood,
that bread crumb cord
break it to pieces
feed it to birds.
Jan 10, 10
you lovely thing,
you bubble my heart
you bumble my aim.
I go back to my childhood,
that bread crumb cord
break it to pieces
feed it to birds.
Jan 10, 10
Light Skin
Lucid skin
light you
Ludic space
not reaching through
the long
channelled labrynth
Lucid sliding
eucalyptus
slew
your lucid skin
across my ludic view.
Jan 20, 10
light you
Ludic space
not reaching through
the long
channelled labrynth
Lucid sliding
eucalyptus
slew
your lucid skin
across my ludic view.
Jan 20, 10
The Immediate Sense
Layers of smell
traveling through nothing
into into into
what on top of what
on top of what
unlidded, unlashed
undoes
layers of minutes.
Layers undo
layers of in in in.
Jan 20, 10
traveling through nothing
into into into
what on top of what
on top of what
unlidded, unlashed
undoes
layers of minutes.
Layers undo
layers of in in in.
Jan 20, 10
Parachute
A dark parachute
ties its bows to
all the upward limbs
rises and flies
pulling this
falls, shrouds
this
There is no calling it
away or here
just being where
it's being.
Jan 14, 10
ties its bows to
all the upward limbs
rises and flies
pulling this
falls, shrouds
this
There is no calling it
away or here
just being where
it's being.
Jan 14, 10
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