floating and leaving no trace
stiff tin people
[too fast to call it walking
one foot always
anchored to the earth
dragging it beneath them]
they look like skeletons
wrapped in butcher paper
their clothes rustle
[or is it their skin]
as they pass
both look down
so as not to make eye contact
glancing up
at my ‘good evening’
hooded vision like hawks
searching for movement
in the sidewalk cracks
——
It’s National Poetry Writing Month!
Day 14
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hope is the thing with feathers
despair is the thing with scales
i am the watermelon man
reduced to a slick white rind
my seeds swallowed on accident
or spit into the street
for angels to pick and peck at
eli, eli, i’ve been thinking
some days the color leaches
out of everything
some days the everything
tastes of pine resin
and trail dust
eli, eli
if you swallow a watermelon seed
one will grow in your belly
and then what will you do
always feed them to the angels
with the oil slicks around their necks
rainbow nooses
i’ve been thinking
——
It’s still National Poetry Writing Month!
Day 13
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you left footprints
in the folds of my gray matter
no waves to wash them away
an eternal shore
like the moon
without air
without water
only the roar of the ocean
and the crisp
outlines of your
shoes
——
It’s National Poetry Writing Month!
Day 12
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at my desk
the click
of pressed keys
salt shrivels my tongue
i hear crickets
but it is only blood
only blood
——
It’s National Poetry Writing Month!
Day 11
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paper mâché jesus
angel composed
entirely of dried ivy
stuck to a stone wall
jesus comes apart
during a soft drizzle
collapsing into smeared
classified ads
a dry santa ana
picks the angel apart
one leaf at a time
leaving withered veins
without blood
——
for
dVerse ~ Poets Pub
Quadrille #30: drizzle
It’s National Poetry Writing Month!
Day 10
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even the master’s
meditation cushion
smells farty
——
It’s National Poetry Writing Month!
Day 9
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the phone rings
and my words
are pressed down
stoppered between
gut and tongue
you say hello
and that you want to tell me
that you couldn’t remember
if i had received
the card
i assure you i have
and we hang up
the phone rings
and my heart
is pressed down
wedged between
sharpened bones
you say hello
and that you want to tell me
that you couldn’t remember
if i had received
the card
i assure you i have
and we hang up
the phone rings
and my throat
clamps closed
crushed under
a drunk’s forearm
you say hello
and apologize
since you know you’ve called
(didn’t i)
and that you want to tell me
that you couldn’t remember
if i had received
the card
i assure you i have
(please don’t apologize)
and we hang up
——
It’s National Poetry Writing Month!
Day 8
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pity the trio
of old women
with a single eye
and single tooth
among them
though they
know much that
is hidden
when the eye
rolled behind the sofa
and they could not
find the can opener
they resorted to blind
cannibalism
politely taking turns
chewing
each other
with that one tooth
——
It’s National Poetry Writing Month!
Day 7
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the air doesn’t stir
or ring
you look my way
and pretend to smile
but not even a whisper
passes your lips
like dropping a pin
in a vacuum
no tinkling chime
oppressive and heavy
being mummified
wrapped in heavy wet bandages
soaked in eucalyptus
hard to breathe and move
but harder still to
want to move
your laughter is a ghost
hollow and absent and see through
and everywhere at once
and all in my head
horses spin
a sickly pantomime
the calliope
rests in ruins
scraps of metal tubes
black and white keys
broken wooden legs
discarded brass ring
——
It’s National Poetry Writing Month!
Day 6
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black blur on red bricks
this spring day
heats up like summer
and you and your kin
warm yourselves
and scatter yourselves
i have seen more
of your brethren
in one year of heat
than in a lifetime of
cooler years
and i wonder
if this a new age
of dinosaurs
these ones will be tiny
and won’t fly
and won’t have feathers
they will have scales
and eat insects
and inherit the earth
and i hope
they are kinder to the bees
——
It’s National Poetry Writing Month!
Day 5
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