worm on the sidewalk
wriggles and dances, whip crack
thrown to grass safety
Tag: write
signs, portents, bells (20171109)
seems innocent enough
a holiday display
a single word
with a dozen tiny lights
the word
joy
as seen
from outside
shining in a window
but looking at it
from inside
with the lights turned off
it looks so much like
you
but broken
or stunted at least
if not shattered
this isn’t
a fundamental or cosmic truth
and i’m not reading
anything into the odd bit of
seasonal dyslexia
or the inside/outside holiday dichotomy
it just struck me
is all
the weather (20171108)
and now
the weather report
tonight will be cold
mostly cloudless
the earth will exhale
homeless who do not have
a sleeping bag
or a tent to crawl into
or a car empty of gas but with windows
they will slide
into chambers like bullets
that can’t can’t can’t can’t
penetrate flesh
or tolerance
lucky for them
this is the coast
where the ice age
doesn’t descend
in sheets of actual ice
lucky for them
the weather is mild
lucky for them
lucky
they are lucky
they are knives
seen through windows
turn turn turn up the radio
they cannot cut
if they are sheathed
their cardboard magic spells
their incantations
they will not not not alter this
they will go hungry
they will become hungry ghosts
they will be silent as a vacuum is silent
an opening (20171106)
incision
feels like insight, but–
just a cut
a small leak
everything inside runs out
until nothing’s left
——
untitled (20171105)
how many hearts
how many prayers
balance the scale
the moon is the color of blood
the color of rust
the color of flattened lead
twenty-six stars wink out
who would ever think
such a thing would
[not]
happen
those who ask this question
would find a special
place in hell
if we ever needed
such a place
straight to the heart (20171103)
i offered an open door
and like the vampire you are
you came in and starting
drinking everything in sight
i’ve learned from all
those hammer horror movies
that there’s no easy way
to rescind an invitation
my best bet is to stock
the fridge with curated holy water
and spread garlic aioli on everything
like a pretentious asshole
while you’re busy avoiding
mirrors
i’ll be sharpening my stakes
and looking for a mallet
breathing and the promise of human sacrifice (20171101)
solid air
pressure imbalance
chest expands
inside hands
digging outward, escaping
offering my heart
the quiet of water (20171031)
i bury myself in beach sand
begging the tide to come in
this is cleaner than a funeral
no open grave for grieving
relatives to fall into
not need to rent a backhoe
no need for mourners at all
the sea provides the tears
the waves–sobs
the wind–sighs of loneliness
the gulls–shrieks and laughter
naiku (20171029)
a gentle breeze
sucker punches the sycamore
not enough to bend it double
but enough to knock loose
a few leaves like teeth
spiralling and spinning
on their way down
a squirrel eyes me
suspiciously
like i’m the one
who egged the wind on
so i give him the finger
since my dog is too old
to give a shit
about a squirrel
halfway up a sycamore
how calming the wind is
how beautiful this fall dance
of leaves/teeth
how angry the squirrel
clinging like spiderman
to the bark
it’s a good
autumn day
the skin you’re in (20171028)
stop picking at it
is good advice
the nail slips under
the edge of the brown, cracked scab
lifting
lifting slowly
watch the old coagulation
crease and sweat serum
as it rolls up
you’ll leave a mark
you’ll make a scar
why do that to your skin
once so soft so
[the insides of eggs are soft
but so are omelettes]
dig
dig
into flesh
not frantically
you’re not a beast
this is science
after all
a white coat
a bunsen burner
a double-blind
how many times
can you heal
over in the same spot
before the blood gives up
before the skin gives up
before the heart gives up
Words and Feathers 