two voice choir (20180123)

the night sky makes a sound
a two voice choir singing
a growl of cars on the freeway
the belching of a jet
invisible overhead somewhere
between black
star-isolating expanses

it is the same sound i hear
in my head
one ear roaring
the other ringing
the darkness similar
only not so big
but bigger

scissors (20170516)

the invisible woman repeats numbers
like those soviet radio stations

my head fills with curvilinear
whorls of snail shells and fingerprints

the smell of cigarette smoke that is not
from a cigarette seeps into my garage

as i put clothes in the laundry basket–
–this night is coming to a close

and i am still knotted up like a boy
scout’s shoelaces

it will take a sharp pair of scissors
to release me

sunken eyes (20170423)

the bird sings the night sky
fading blues to pinks to
the solitary color of its heart

three trills, short
one cry, long
a heartbeat separated by chambers
struck out of order
a solitary sound of night

listen
the rustle of feathers
listen
the quiet of parting leaves
the river of the freeway
the black heart beating

——

It’s National Poetry Writing Month!
Day 23

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wet sidewalks (20170118)

in the rain a cyclist passes
unprepared for the sudden showers
an orange ember glowing
at the end of his cigarette

petrichor and marlboro lights
and i am ten
and the streets are wet
and black except for the
sodium cyclops eyes of streetlamps
home has that familiar smell
and nicotine-stained curtains