shadows stretching (20170420)

the fat sun
lolls low in the morning sky

pine trees line the street
casting long shadows
across the asphalt

a runner hunched half over
speeds through a gap
in traffic
following
silent train tracks

i wait for the crows
who have found something
unknowable but edible
in the grass

i taste the dust
of the field behind my
childhood home
chickens, horses
beyond the field
a neighbor of sorts
whose peacock
is crying

——

It’s STILL National Poetry Writing Month!
Day 20

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first itch (20170419)

at first there was an itch
an itch that wasn’t there before
and no hand to scratch it
so a fire had to do
to contain the itch
but the fire grew out of control
it burned without oxygen to consume
and its ashes became a fine mist
and the drops coalesced into diamonds
the first stars
and they sang with voice
but there was no air
and there was no one to hear

——

It’s National Poetry Writing Month!
Day 19

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untitled (20170418)

the sun throws rocks at me
and my umbrella
shudders under the weight
of these fiery meteors

my hair reeks of smoke
tiny holes have begun appearing
in my shirt where the cosmic
ash has fallen

how i wish they didn’t carry
all that gravity with them
in addition to their smoldering
hearts

——

It’s National Poetry Writing Month!
Day 18

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repentance [fragment] (20170416)

you have my apologies, of course
truth transmitted directly from source
but too small, words too few
to make much difference to you

my skin a fractured eggshell
spiderweb damage the betraying tell
no need for hell to punish sin
i carry my eternal flames within

——

It’s National Poetry Writing Month!
Day 16

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prints (20170412)

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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fragments of peace (20170410)

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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