break all the hearts
snap them until your hands
are caked with candy dust
and the food safe inks
coat your fingers like
blood
dig out the cherry centers
of all the chocolates
evacuate the liqueur
and save it to burn in lamps
made of human flesh
and human bone
call upon st. valentine
to strike with his crozier
to break open every heaving chest
expose every swiftly beating heart
like a surgeon intent
on eradicating some diseased
greasy, necrotized mass of tissue
so the lungs can finally fill with air
Author: crow
I'm a writer and a dabbler. I live in Southern California.
Poem 20150212
on the walk the dog stops
more than he should
to tear up blades of grass
and try to chew them with teeth
he doesn’t have
you don’t know anything
about the water they use
–is it reclaimed?–
to water the grass
or if there are pesticides
or hallucinogenic mushroom spores
clinging to the underside
of the leaves
you tell him to stop
pulling the leash again
and again
for his own good
and the next time he pauses
instead of eating the grass
he rolls in it
instantly a puppy
instantly forgiven
with blades of grass hanging
from his mouth
Poem 20150211
like a song filtering through the air
on a clear day
when the sky is so bright
it seems like the sun will crack
the way an egg does,
breathing feels like flight
the sun like feathers on the skin
and your feet lift out of your shoes
because your shoes
are only meant to tread the earth
and you rise
and you rise
and the earth falls away
below your
painted toes
Poem 20150210
“how to make a star–a tutorial”
disturb a singularity
and let it explode
bing bang style
until the subatomic particles
form from the universal soup
wait a little while
until those particles coalesce
into atoms and make hydrogen
invent gravity
and pull the hydrogen into
a big ball of nuclear plasma
if you’re lucky
in the detritus from the star’s
birthday party
you might get a rocky planet
covered mostly in liquid water
where the apes will learn to make paper
and some clever bastard
will cut the paper into strips
and fold them
into little paper stars
Poem 20150209
on the windshield the bee
motionless but not dead
i begin to back down the driveway
sure that it will fly off
i call it mr. bee, though
it is undoubtedly a drone
with no thoughts of queenly
courtship
just long days of scouting flowers,
finding nectar,
redistributing pollen
i tell it to fly off before
i get too far away from my house
“there are lot of flowering plants
in my backyard,” i say through the glass
not that it listens.
i tap on the glass and it doesn’t move
a light mist covers the glass too
but I don’t want to use the wipers
too many bees have perished already
and though it is only one bee
it’s my bee. my wife turns on the
defroster and warm air hits the glass
and my face
water evaporates, the bee starts to wake up
at a stop sign i press a finger against the glass
it responds to the added heat
moving its wings and legs
but still refuses to fly away
perhaps when i hit the freeway
the extra air will lift it up
it stays there until I drop her off at work
i am parked
and she is turning to go when i reach over
to touch the glass
to encourage mr. bee to fly off
and my hand hits the wiper
it’s swept
away
“oh shit!”
again
the wipers move
across the glass
i try to remember, pushup or pull down
to turn it off and manage to force the blades
across a third time
before shutting them off
she tells me the wipers just pushed it
to the corner of the window
and that it was moving around
but i wish i could have seen
mr. bee take to the air
under its own power
miles from where it went to sleep
and i will wonder all day
if it found its way home
Poem 20150208
the day cools
yesterday was much hotter
than predicted
today seemed much cooler
than predicted
the sky is blue
so blue
so clear
so pure
it’s a verb
it blues so hard
it hurts to stare at it
from my spot
on the couch
i spare it a moment
while i think about
something else
until looking at the sky
makes my eyes water
and i forget what
i was thinking about
Poem 20150207
everything stops
except for the wings
of the hummingbird
feet away from us
as he dips his beak
into the young buds
on the lime tree
his neck and chest
a glittering ruby
his face soot black
he tarries for seconds
then shoots like a star
over the wall
into the neighbor’s yard
Poem 20150206b
Friday Haiku
Friday Haiku
Friday Haiku
ignored, the toddler screams
in the supermarket aisle
just like me!
Pome 20150206
the grass explodes
out of the earth
in ragged patterns
begging for the mower’s blade
the trees bud green and white
with fresh leaves
and new branches
the flowers that have survived
winter
open their faces
unfolding like flags
we won’t surrender
we reach for the sun
we have waited for spring
and spring has not
forgotten us
Poem 20150205
he pays for a single fare
and boards the train
his bag heavy on his back
and his bones heavy in his skin
across the track
another train
going the opposite direction
he sees her
from behind at first
as she waves goodbye to
someone on the platform
her arms raised
so that her shirt rides up
just enough
to reveal the smooth
white skin at the small of her back
he thinks about how
he moved automatically
to the windows not facing the platform
watching her wave
watching the skin disappear
and reappear
her car is empty enough, that,
when she turns,
she sees him staring at her
she rushes to the window near the track
toward him
and he thinks
she’s going to pull the shade
or yell
or shake her fist
(do people do that?)
but she smiles
and waves just as hard
as she did at the platform
and her shirt rises enough
to show her belly button
but he is transfixed by her smile
as the trains begin to move apart
and manages a small wave
and wonders where her train is going
Words and Feathers 