Faults

I’m free of rain.

I show my picture to the mirror.

I was not busy in my shiny days

and now I see

clouds of supplication ahead,

burning bronze.

 

My shape shifting selfishness

Folded into a skin box,

Origami.

 

My life was born for a while,

between sameness and joy.

 

Ten times I memorize myself,

candy candle

I have to light,

To guide kaleidoscope perception

Back home to me.

 

Interdependence is difficult and soft,

ad infinitum.

Escaping the Warren

The simple grave
of the rain.
The driving wind
makes tracks through parched prairie.

The leanest rabbit escapes the warren.
Teeth marks, bone, thin hair.
Beyond the metronomic society
nourishing sustenance.

This field is sacred and untouched
by the rushing realism of
corporeal men.
Through the bladed brown,
The cottontail prances,
grateful and alone.

Untitled 271

In the cemetery
trapped sin and simplicity
tinged with regret.

Under beds,
bruised bits of life.

I have called the wind
on my trite telephone
to speak with my lover in
the vintage language of distance.

The comic book store has
Only tragic books left.

One hero is asphyxiating for fun.
Another scrubs dishes in rum.

Beasts –
blue built and bundled,
and bridled brides.
Brutes weaving wispy webs.