red and gold
lightning on four legs
my little dog
Tag: artist
NaPoWriMo 2018 Day 5
my heart is a wave
a particle
a cloud of vacuum quanta
energetic bursts
indra’s net of mirror gems
it is a collapsed function
the thing observed
a black hole in waiting
frozen information
on the event horizon
it is a broken bone
on the mend
and the splint
straightening and restricting
the wrist
NaPoWriMo 2018 Day 4
a time traveler
must have three hearts
one for the past
one for the present
one for the future
each beats fully
only in the era visited
my ribcage is too small
to contain twelve chambers
and i am going to have
to decide when i will give up
before i break a rib
NaPoWriMo 2018 Day 3
my brain buzzes
a beehive
ruled by competing
overfed queens
i once read that bees
will surround an invader
–say a wasp or a hornet–
building a little sun around him
raising the temperature
of their abdomens
cooking the intruder alive
i wonder, does the wasp
pop like popcorn
burnt in a microwave
leaving a greasy tendril
of smoke
what has crawled into my head
i smell something
burning
NaPoWriMo 2018 Day 2
i’m terribly sorry but you’re breaking up
would you mind stepping closer to the
microphone
clown head
bullhorn
communicator
tin can
sarlaac pit
garbage disposal
intercom
intercontinental ballistic missile
it’s getting difficult to make out
what you’re saying over the sound of
barking dogs
crying babies
trash compactors
battlefront amputations
explosive diarrhea
burning piñatas
sleeping naked mole rats
maybe you can call me back on a different
phone
smoke signal
tarot card
trance medium
NaPoWriMo 2018 Day 1
the word sprouted feathers
the most beautiful plumage
impossible to look at in direct
sunlight but impossible to
look away from shimmering
like a mirage or a rainbow
or alabaster coated with oil
but that damn thing
would not take flight
sitting there like a cannonball
already shot
rusting away in
the rain
chorus (20180321)
i think i hear you
but i have to strain
to be sure
turn off the flashlight
because the white disc of light
seems to hum and it is easier
to listen for you in the dark
disengaging every other sense
a thousand thousand croaking voices
sing at once if not as one
a little rain seems to have
resuscitated you
and your desiccated brethren
hidden by the low tree line
hidden by the cover of night
your song amplified by low clouds
each little voice
a pair of little wings
each pair of wings
lifts my soul a fraction of a fraction of an inch
such a small amount for any
given voice
but such a chorus
raises me skyward
the thousand thousand voices
in gratitude from my great height
i want to yell through the leaves
across the lanes of traffic
thank you frogs
goodnight frogs
but all i manage is a smile
and a bit of a croak
a short walk (20180308)
everything is new
to the new dog
each smell a redolent benediction
from nature’s upraised hand
the rotting carcass
of a crow an equal
of a smoking thurible
each ecstatic stream of urine
a harmonic note
added a chorus of previous hymns
so much outside
franti sniffing
making up for this lack of knowledge
so much i wasn’t aware of
so much to be thankful for
the grass
the wind
the sun in my eyes
even the decayed leaves
even the mud
even the shit
thank you for outside
thank you for newness
rainy weather (20180222)
judas iscariot popped up
in my dream
offered me seven bucks
to watch her son in the morning
because he had the chicken pox
and she had to work
i felt bad because
i knew she couldn’t afford
to pay me
not even seven dollars
she cried when i gave her
the damp, worn bills back
and i got the feeling
that she hated me
for it as she walked away
sobbing in torn fishnets
late for her shift in the warehouse
untitled (20180217)
we couldn’t pull the trigger fast enough
there wasn’t enough gunpowder
to push the bullet down the barrel
simply not enough lead in the planet’s core
to melt and pour into shiny slugs
this is not a protest poem
you can’t protest an entire species’
unrelenting stampede toward the edge of a cliff
if the meek do inherit the earth it will be because
they’re wearing bullet-proof vests and gas masks
living like moles in the earth where the lead used to be
