A shining ribbon of steel
slashes the Flatland in half.
See the numbers rush
through the fields of chaff.
Metamorphosis,
the 2 to 4,
the 4 to 8,
my heart,
buried deep in the chocolate brown soil,
into a seed.
Next harvest,
there will be wheat.
Category: poetry
Winter
The winter comes again,
Staying in my corner, you change his plagues.
There are times when people are afraid.
I can not invite him in.
I build a summer house and he is not compatible.
He screams and hail falls upon me,
shrill and sharp.
In My Golden Cage
The doctor takes an x-ray
of a balloon,
finds bone tumors.
Illness permeates the party.
I dance in a bird cage.
The door is open,
but I can’t get out.
Depictions of parrots on the wall,
the sordid light on repeat.
Masses of bodies,
shivering to a twisted music.
I give my teeth to a nun.
Salvation waits in the curvature
of this cornerless room.
My breathing wet,
I wring out my words.
Lost,
broken,
Brave,
malfeasance,
mirror.
In my golden cage I know nothing,
dream of silver silence.
My Life is a Thing of Life
Day divided into meters.
The world is darkened,
So my life is a thing of life.
I work as a wife.
The dry river enmeshes with my daughter’s birth day.
My body goes to sleep,
my mind enters,
deep integration.
Grind
Sinking cloud
hovering over the mudslide.
See my plastic body
construct bridges.
Look through my chest
and see the omnipotent azure stone.
Grind corn.
Grind your hips.
Get to the tangled root of everything.
Like a Bad Phoenix
These legs are long lairs of want,
These eye planes are like stars of tourism,
the ecosystems of aquariums where the fish are crazy.
My integration will kill you.
Like a bad phoenix I’ll rise up
from my ashes,
pink.
Irenic
My elation is straying.
Irenic,
My eyes close.
The man behind the curtain is hollow,
and the curtain has thousands
of loathsome love letters pinned to it.
My rabbit opines on my snowing skills.
The cold,
a little caustic,
Agrees.
In the refurbished grass
a wild warren dines.
I walk over,
pale as a breeze,
to feast.
Unravel. Revel.
Rolled in my silk sulk,
I am not purchased.
Rings,
roses,
so many odious pounds of plague
lurking in the water.
Kilowatt kilometer killing
Electricity winds through the wind.
I need an old marble career. Bees all have careers,
ambitious buzzing bees bringing fresh honey to my nude mouth.
My silken sulk vanishes,
unraveled. Revel.
Freckled Woman Light
Speckled woman,
a zing in the sun,
outshining everyone.
In the crumbling marsh,
the fairy of lights
is raging through the reeds.
But inside the sprinkled, speckled, freckled woman light,
there is a darkness drawing the empty city ever closer.
Citrus Wars
Tangerine wars have been waged
on this page of history,
And the man in the dark gray jacket is about
to turn the page,
and the new page is plastered with little boys.
Some grow lemons.
Some grow limes.
At the bottom of the page
the great Citrus Wars break out
like measles in a less half hearted century.
I am the virus that stalks through the trenches,
muting and murdering.
This war so tangy and pulped,
is only a mid day snack.
Miniature Moon 