When we take too much time off

Tags

blight, elbow cracking, resorts, snail mail

When I walk away from the

fallen temples, there are endless

streams of hair.  I fall into

them, one by one.  Dusk falls,

then night, then dawn comes

to us again.  My lover prowls around

the banks, trying to find a place to pick me

up, but my head is lost in the streams and

my hands are small.

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the sight of a monster

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delphi, manga, pow, wetar

you dip into the

maroon sweaters in your

boyfriends store.  the heavy white stones

at the edge of the town

hang over your legs, and

the sound of your voice

extends to light pink gardens.  if you said

something about your plight, it

would go a long way.

We’re gonna go on the plane without ya

If we stand at the edge

Of an arctic forest, when the

Air freezes the little hairs in

Our lungs, and the big white

Polar bears smell everywhere that we’re

Bleeding… Will you finally let me

Win our arguments, that man is

Not a part of nature, but a vision

Of a better future.

In the garden of lunettes

Salt in you’re tongue

And wine beyond your years, the

Way that your older sister

Talks to you is too harsh

Everyone agrees. If you take them

Off, I’ll take them off. You can’t see

Very far. A distant aunt calls

Out for you, says the radio’s

Been left on for hours. A voice

On the statute of the pig.

‘i kinda know, but who knows’

If seven men were waiting around

The corner and twelve were

Standing with doves, bright like mars

On an autumn dawn. We ask

Pessoa if he’s been to the future, but

He didn’t know. An Arab

Takes my bags and

Drops me by the sun.

I ask

For the

Future, but no

One knows what I’m

Taking about.

a star rising over the north atlantic in the eighteenth century

Tags

doug, ebones, reno, triangulation

you’ve run until your breath

comes into your body.  the water

around you

warms by the decade.  you have become a

woman, the star of the universe.  the lead in

your gun, the love in your son, the

gravity in your sun.  when the morning comes

you’ll be done.

A sketch of me with clothes on

I take your heart out of the oil and bring

It to the shore

And transform it

To soap. When we act out our

Missions, we become

Comedians, spread across

The Sahara, our children are hyenas,

Your breasts are palm trees

Blasphemy according to several sources

Tigers are years in your eyes

When you’ve returned

From the generation at

The gentleman’s club and

Asked all the terrorist questions.

My metal work hasn’t made you anything

Twisted, my love. The

Love we share is only

Jalapenos, my heart.

down by the river

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cyclones, drambouie, gaurdiens, swinging

If I sit and wait at the

beach for you to bring me a

large tree that’s really green,

but that isn’t alcoholic.

the waves tell me that you

are tipping over, the impossible

wisdom

of the

rodents.

a skyline, but with nostalgia

Tags

accent graphs, birthday cakes, mutinies, soldier boys

 

You stare at me, your
eyes made of elefants
the power of your architecture,
is as stunning as
naval warfare. If the songs
of the south find me, let them
say that I was a tune, let them know
that I was worth
whistling for.