Sunday, May 6, 2018

New Day

I throw on the day
like a poncho of lead,
my thumb blurs out the graphited edge of morning,
as the touch of summer begins to nip.

The tongue recedes —
the mouth feathers the threshold of resistance—
it gently contours over
a dry riverbed of stone
banks softened and deluded.

The mind is routed,
ripped out like a dead root.

No matter - no matter—
softly now we turn back to the day
reared up ahead like a fresh colt
welcoming it’s mother’s milk.

Sunday, April 15, 2018

 Untitled, 2018

Mew and tongue pecking
at the triumph of endurance
anthem of retreat —
downy gray fur
rejection - jello of stability. 

Tarnished and inert star
eyes flecked ultramarine
redundancy of fools
synthetic velvety ears
black caterpillar tail —
forecasting  bitter winters.

Energies spent
bird bones in a slippery silver pelt.

Drift, drift,  
rib cage like a mouse with its own agenda
berthed at the muted pier.

Away, away,
spring is lost,
there is no order, no device
but roped in,
claws, claws.