When the clothes
get thrown
in the trash and the
lilac feathers float away,
when the coffee grounds
can’t be used and the
chipped mugs lose their
crusade, its important to
remember that God wins in the end
and that its all real.
31 Monday Jan 2022
Posted Uncategorized
inWhen the clothes
get thrown
in the trash and the
lilac feathers float away,
when the coffee grounds
can’t be used and the
chipped mugs lose their
crusade, its important to
remember that God wins in the end
and that its all real.
30 Sunday Jan 2022
Posted Uncategorized
inTags
An aging man and wife,
walking out onto a street in
November
and ever street light
tears down another wall,
where their shared church bell rings.
One loves the other
more. One drinks things
she’s not supposed
to. One holds the
past as gospel. One knows
when the world will
end. Did the money come in time?
Will he return her call or
do what he knows is best? They’ve shared a bed for years, a
blanket and sheets, but
no stitches will ever
be as tight as
the ones that bind their faces to the moon.
29 Saturday Jan 2022
Posted Uncategorized
inA terribly big handprint, stuck in
the snow, each finger a lover from
her past, except that they’re all
mentors who treated her with
perfect chastity. She’s so cold, watching her
hand spin, making her dizzy and
anergetic. Each finger tells her something,
tells her something
tells her something
And she loves to listen, but
she can’t hear.
28 Friday Jan 2022
Posted Uncategorized
inblack helmets sticking up
from the snow, like ink in
apocryphal texts. shocks of
dark hair, tongues of
smokes whispering things
that may have importance or not, but
either way, you can’t look away, you
can’t close your ears. Even when snow falls
and the world goes quiet and
all the trash goes under the
blanket-
“Maybe if we kick at the ground,
the pavement will tell us something.”
“maybe the tea leaves will know”
“maybe war will give us love”
27 Thursday Jan 2022
Posted Uncategorized
inBoth lungs open for her, sweet
march and salty sleep, she curls
up, position, she unfurls, postposition,
she looks into her hallway,
autumn falls early on her
that year, fear and epilepsy-
childbearing, childdeath.
Both hearts open for her, sweet
march and salty September,
she kisses her daughter, precision,
she’s unusual, past precision, near an empty
hallway, bottoms
fall heavy on her that
year, ground and glory-
child growing, child crying.
Both lungs open for her, sweet
march and salty sleep, she curls
up, position, she unfurls, postposition,
she looks into her hallway,
autumn falls early on her
that year, fear and epilepsy-
childbearing, childdeath.
26 Wednesday Jan 2022
Posted Uncategorized
inIn between the palm tree and the
highways lives the shadow. Where the
teeth bite at-
Where the soils screams like-
Where the sleepers roll between
eupnea and apnea.
The future is a summer day,
and its hotter than you want, but
not as hot as it could be, enough
to kill us all, even though
we’re all gonna die.
25 Tuesday Jan 2022
Posted Uncategorized
inTags
She’s a princess, sitting atop
a pile of a hundred yoga mats.
But no one tells her
how evil yoga can be.
An empty set of
motions, contortions of
wrongous and greed.
To eat-
To suck-
To dry in the sun.
A husband for each mat, a hundred
graves for only
one dandelion.
24 Monday Jan 2022
Posted Uncategorized
inchattering robots, lost track of time
and floating through space. They
don’t care what you do with
your children, or what sugar you eat.
They won’t bother you when you’re dead
or talk to you when you’re dying. But there’s
so many of them. And their eyes
weave through me, so I
must bear my tapestry,
automated as it is.
23 Sunday Jan 2022
Posted Uncategorized
inTags
barrels of honey, spilling into
the flower beds. Statues, blinking, but only
slowly and only once. Men walking with women,
in the cool of the night, before the moon comes
out, with perfect peace, with perfect peace.
Every man is a painter, every woman an
athlete, every child is a soldier-
fighting, dying, wailing,
bleeding, hoping, wishing.
Families, each one with a broken bone,
a new joy is born at every drop of blood.
22 Saturday Jan 2022
Posted Uncategorized
inWhen the rosewood touches
pearl, when the skin flushes
with golden light, when the
fish walk on water and words come streaming
from their mouths. Ink on paper getting wet
with seawater.
If north was…
If south was…
If pain was beauty and beauty, wealth
If sabbath was six days and
wood could bend.