Thursday, August 20, 2009

thin enough to call a barely breeze

----her images--already ill-defined--began
to dissipate

was difficult
marked by sin (among other things)

when wildly forward
was all she wished
upon nothing her ground--imaginary

exodus to fantastical future
where running and WILL
to usher in another time

less stricken by the weight of day

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

little stone
working its way
into celestial trials

the next step
among the looking-for of backdoor escapes

leverage--a fake sucking-in of mistakes
among discarded skin and error

delete love--
gouging out the eyes of romance
with tender hands and a smile

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

be a breeze
----------- a birch tree silence

a swollen eye
------------- black envy

destination--sheets--the cool spread of sex
------------ a syntax misplaced by garment

---to know thunder---how it hollows the skies
with talk of murder

keep it smooth
---------------- sing about other things

like trumpets
and spring

Friday, August 14, 2009

a trembling parenthesis of gathering silence
the allure of return


ferried response carried electric
across blighted emotion

speak into the thin darkness
to feel it reverberate
sending shivering fingertips
to collect dense intention

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

white washed illness
stalled plows in the field
river bones mixed--
wash out to sea
whose salt
is sweat filled
teary night--

stripped ashy trees
stand unashamed
skinny naked trees
gesturing to bald sky

bald sky bares witness
to our embarrassment
as we grow
and shy--

the heavens do not know pity
brothers and sisters
circular nature
company and split self
wetlands, coast, drying fields
rusty plow oiled slick and new

the corn is high and blue ------ while
history is made in backyards
urban slews, rooftops, alleys, near the silo
behind the brush fire, in the kitchen,
on the street
mingled with place
and people

stories are being told
borrowed time
lots of walls
bricked up ------ plastered
coated and invisible
like birds in tree tops
birds in tree tops with their
invisible hanging houses
searching for the morning

the morning and sound
the salty sea
the south sweat
muddy and sensuous
the bones of stories
silos and plows
noise, morning noise
and mist
mist covering--a blanket over tilled land
tilled land filled with future
and past

quiet from its past
tilled by its future
while the long hands of century
element over this land

Thursday, August 6, 2009

dramatic thought/untitled sketch

carry me to your chagrin
ferry me
dead weight eyes
cause (effect) a stirring
every thing lost

to crows kneeling sideways
against the snow
pecking bones
bare branched homes
sketching gestures to the sky

broken contour
too thick laid on its side
scratching a hole in memory
picking out the stones

praising all great mothers
wishing for the womb
sacrifice, arms
unaided cleft chest
pressed against safety

deft we deliver silence
crossed legs
hanging breath
our own untimely living deaths

like when a space is clear cut for growing but then is forgotten and wild things begin to take over again

it is
hard to let go
of names
when naming
is everything
and more

working searching
for integral

of self
of bravery-

standing only as a front
for more sophisticated fears
that cleared the path for greater sins
like remembering

stretched out
ephemeral past without hard edges
what strange contrast she holds!!

time is not a divine right
it is only
until it is not

to say--
what sad stories we live
full of bright beautiful change

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Fox--Part I

speaking from a distance
knowing no other option


water --- blue and tied to solitude

meaning found
in cadence


restless fevers shivering sweat tossed in damp sheets

speak to me

this holding of tongues is madness
against history
against certain stories

Fox--Part II

the fox burrows deep
digging two exits
knowing entrance is easy

but to leave
to leave is a universal matter
tied to Great Things

like survival


the fox knows sound
whispering when to retreat

yet even instinct is compromised
as curiosity often weighs more
than danger
and sense

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

laid waste---stream

god must have laid waste to us o' so long ago. before the busy streets with yellow paint and tar before broken alleys and bricked buildings. before thick combs of people mashed together on sidewalks god must have laid waste. god must have laid waste to us long before flickering screens and wires with electric impulse and plastic bags with handles. god must have laid waste to us before planes could crash and before we thought dead earth buried black was any good to us. god must have been so mad to lay waste to us even before johnny apple seed and cannon fodder and domestic pigs. god must have laid waste to us o' so long ago. before stucco and the invention of saws for cutting down trees before we lost sight that trees share the same fate as us, before hygiene and fire god must have laid waste to the little souls rocking back and forth in tight caves with sand in them and with cold found foraged food below them. god must have laid waste to us crimson red with all kinds of glory and light and must have thought about dogs while laying waste to us. god must have thought about dogs and laid waste to us with panache and flair and a sense of fashion. yeah, god's got fashion and style and sense and panache. god's got it all under control from the tiny tunnels dug feverishly by ants to the tiny tunnels dug feverishly by us gods got style and panache. when god laid waste to us, i bet there was probably glitter everywhere, the kind that gets stuck to the cheek and glitters in the right light. yeah, there was definitely glitter when the waste laying was happening