breezes (20171024)

not so much voice
as brute force
this dry santa ana
sandblasting smooth edges
off a dead man’s curves
pitting and chipping away
at softness
whatever softness we have left

dust scratches the throat
under the lids when the eyes shut
the eyes of the dead will itch forever
with copper keeping them blind

don’t forget to tip
the ferryman so
when it’s my time to cross
if i have to hang out in hell
at least i won’t be stacking stones
to build a stairway
out of my own prayers

i’ll teach him
to build a sail
and he can lay down his oar
put his hand to his ear
and prognosticate
the direction of the wind

heeds tails (20170527)

i have ceased to trust
the sound of the wind
as it whispers in the pines
the wind lies and cheats
a dirty fighter
it has thrown dust
in my eyes
my tears run
filthy and muddy
and i am blinded

ignorance is bliss
you say
let me tell you

there’s a pragmatic kind
of not knowing
that is better than knowing
where you can convince
yourself that you do not need
to know
what you do not want
to know

a lizard scurries past
on the sidewalk
sans tail
and i’m happy for him
having evaded a predator perhaps
or possibly just a kid
on a bike

but he must feel that loss
off balance
without that weight
to anchor him
for when the wind
picks up and whispers

tin toy (20160731)

step one is inserting the key
in the back
and having someone wind you up
every goddamned day
tighten that spring
so you have enough energy
to make it
until the next wind up

i don’t know who designed us
to have these holes
in our backs
when the holes are in our hearts

and when will the key fit into my chest
so i can wind it myself

or not