Tuesday, October 18, 2016

Intention [this is my dream]

Gripping you feels awkward in my left hand
My right is occupied
pressed against the floor, upholding a practiced casual posture
Proving that I don’t need to impress you anymore
you are not allowed to have face [article ommitted]


This is my dream


Anyway, you could be a universe
You could be a mirror, a mirage

This is my dream

Wednesday, November 25, 2015

A Migration

Between young mountains and even younger towers
the wind urges me to go still higher
but below where I came from


I swallow the cold
and feel its burn grow in my chest like frost across glass
every breath a lingering specter
how long ago did I come to this middle land
of jagged false stone roads, of pools of ice water
old as the earth


The air its bitter tongue
telling me this is not mine
it's never been mine
I am not from here

Monday, November 16, 2015

Wading

Wading in the tide,
readying my body
I watched the foam laced water rise
edging the blue horizon
higher and higher above my head,


The weight of the ocean collapsing over me
forcing its salty memory into my mouth, my stomach
I taste it deeply
the salt liquefying me from within,
returning this body to water


I dig my feet into the grainy floor
and wait again


for the next epiphany 


that may suck me down into the tide
until the sun is a shadow, and my last breath is gone 
to show me the sky from another side


Did I pass the test
this body floats
I rise to see what comes next
as it curls  itself into a watery fist


Maybe this time.

Friday, June 12, 2015

A Butterfly in the Afternoon

As I knelt in the garden
A butterfly chose my shoulder
In the afternoon
To close its curved black wings
And die

As I rose

It fell to the ground
And stuck between the blades of grass
Like a piece of paper, briefly fluttered
In the breeze

Wednesday, April 1, 2015

The Northern Carrion

The northern carrion
Fooled by the stench 
of the skunk cabbage, ripe as rotting flesh;
Bless the hooded brown flowers
With a sweet kiss, while bees
Hum in their gentle winter slumber.

Thursday, January 8, 2015

In His Stomach it Grows

In the blue light of morning
In the golden light of afternoon
In the lavender light of twilight
In the plum sky and dumpling white moonlight of night

I see thee
I see thee
I see thee

He took a bite from
The girl who must be swallowed whole

She knows
She knows
She knows

Tuesday, June 24, 2014

Technically, dead

Eating warm peaches
Atop the fresh spring lawn
A whirling sprinkler dousing
A halo of crocus ‘round the Bradford pear tree
Bare feet combing the wet grass
Distant cry of the wind chime
Lazy teller of time—not urging in its tone,
But softly nodding
In harmonic compliment
With the hum of bumblebees wings;
I turn my computer on
Like a low flying bird into the grill of my car.