Candles have been exonerated
for their role in framing the dark.
Suspiciously, the corners glance
sideways at the humiliated wicks.
From Beneath
Paved paths pillow an even
harder earth,
crusted with my previous bones.
From beneath,
the gift of water rising sneaky
through the crevices,
a notice to vacate pinned to the crest.
Ballerina
This fascinating book offers insight into the dark history of ballet, and the beauty and challenges of ballet today.
Groundbreaking Artists
Schumann
Diagnostic rock stars
light the pink sickness
on my forehead
with the squeal of a spirochete.
I am sick.
The antibiotics climbed
the mountain
and blew away like ashes
at the top.
Who will I turn to
when the music stops,
perched on one screaming
foot in my box?
The seats in the crowd
are filled with the
whisperers.
On stage, the fully
realized monsters of
scientific sound.
Actualized mindfucks
who are going somewhere
because the conveyor
belt from the stage
runs only for them.
They see through me.
The extra vision in
my head a hammock
supporting the exhaustion
of my pine cone.
I have thoughts of lances,
of silver mercury
waiting for a cog rail
that sleeps.
I will take the mercury,
apply it to my forehead
like Ash Wednesday.
My Easter is on tour
with the band.
Indestructible
The Wombs
Winter Mood
Photo 8
Grateful
The coordinates of my gratitude
are inestimable.
Somewhere on an earth of regret,
a small point of velour gratefulness.
The small seal
of my face
with the veritable scent
of a name
the size of a fall from grace.
Living at the bottom,
the detritus falls like
snow on the blanket
I never bought.
At the right latitude,
where it glides into
an unresponsive longitude,
the gifts given by the one
who burns my name as incense,
his arms draped in velour.
Miniature Moon 