somewhere on the coastline of my memory, two girls and a slick canoe
glide across a blue puddle, their opposite oars dipping in tandem.
one girl stands and stumbles like a wave overcome,
while the other sits and stares at their watery window.
beneath the girls, liquid glass and undersea sidewalk.
beyond them, a fish’s bones settled at the brink
of a sandbar’s black out. the girls are only canoeing because
Read more "the still water that runs deep"
the wave-like one is scared of fish, and feels their lips against her feet
the clouds hinted of old bedsheets
Read more "April"
left on too long
and then the fog fell clammy
in a downing with the sun
and we were so cold
the wet seemed like wind
and the turns in the road
like twists in a tortured gut
until the steam rose with bravado
from the lonely sugar shack.
My body the underside
Of a river at night, dark blue water
Strewn with a pinch of stars.
All is quiet now that I’ve lost
The will to fight. All I can conjure up
Is a lonesome silent fish, a gentle splash
Of gold on the face of the moon.
Then all falls backs into the soft,
Watery black. I’m on my back,
And my legs will not move.
All I can do is wait to be reborn.
Read more "Convalescent"
I said my goodbyes, turned back to the shore, stopped trying to find you. It took me awhile, took me a few more pink striped skies, a few more mountains, a few more years. But I found my way, wrested my skin from yours, saved myself from going under. I talk to you still, the way we always talked, close and deep without platitudes or pretense. You know I have forgiven you for all the ways you almost took me with you. You didn’t mean to, never meant for me to get swept into your undertow. You tried to stop it but I was desperate for a reason to fade away.
Read more "Rocket Man"
a raging fire, a sparkling chasm.
viper slithers to its apogee – the sun –
almost succeeds, almost destroys –
I am justified in brevity, breathing
as I, come face to face,
and so it is – angry souls in each other’s bodies –
while August burns treacherously
in the dry grasses.
Boy leaves tracks. Life trudges.
Read more "Forest Spirit"
Brooding, endorsing the searing sun,
Can’t close the seed captured here,
die brother…live sister….
no distress or bitterness or revenge –
merely randomness that
divides itself unmercifully
you fall asleep with coffee breath, & the rain starts, hitting the sidewalk
Read more "i forget i fell asleep with you and can’t think of anything sweeter"
as the dog whistles. the dog is whistling next to you & everything is
silent still. i imagine the noise of nothing sliding through the house. at
our world’s end, olive bread. so we ripped it off the loaf. our last meal
in the big house that no longer feels like ours. scattered we are,
segmented. yeasty fingers finding mouths & tasting only closeness.
Woman’s white hair
wisps across like fog
on mountain top
lifting, trailing mist,
mop of paralyzed
particles hiding eyes.
Read more "Wisps"
disturbed by wind;
to opposite shore.
in the shrink’s waiting room, in a big comfy chair,
white noise machine cranked up full blast with
new age flutes floating out of Bose speakers
strategically placed to get wired up guys like
me calmed down, chilled out before entering
the sacred temple of mental and spiritual
restoration. they need me a bit numb before
beginning the session, actually eased off the
ledge of discontent upon which I’m generally
Read more "dialing down rage"
perched. And I gotta say, the waiting room
ambience generally does the trick
Father, my heart freezes
stiff as those chickens
when that slaughter truck overturned
in the blizzard of ‘78
and as I walked through the empty
snow world I kicked them,
feathers all over the road.
There is mother
Read more "Patricide At the Dog Howl Cartoon"
in smoke and shame
hiding her face how the dead
know to do. Father,
her dark eyes hair skin all
a howl of rain.
I squirrel for your key among the bird routes
and airplane flights in the blue hummed daylight.
I dig for you in lowest drawers of desks
where duties cement my legs and
cubicles encompass what’s left.
If life ever careens through, we could
Read more "The Search"
rendezvous in dialogue at night’s dock.
As stowaways in bed, we might kiss
and kite our private lightening
into the bugle-blare of dawn.