Disdain

You are a systemic failure,

a weed I will use to make a poultice for my feet.

My jaw is slack and exhausted from talking to God,

my ears reverent from listening.

Sunlight colonizes the window glass,

makes cities we can see but not feel.

A Tree in a Bubble

A tree growing gnarled

inside an intrepid bubble

floating up toward a windmill made of tulips.

How Dutch my dreams are these days

And I always go Dutch with them.

I will pay for my own lead and bread

if dreams will pay for theirs.

What happens to me when I float without roots,

a microcosm of germs and stardust rising toward

my personal zenith?

Impossible Blue Countess

There is an impossible blue countess

leching in my fear mongering back yard.

See the heartbroken morning writhe in chains.

Noon is a brutal master.

Lovers are knives,

moan low in noon light.

Cold is curious-

Travels everywhere

Like this royal blue nobility of consciousness

pontificating on cold betrayal.

A Thorough Education

Welcome to the Life Center,

with sparkly resources to help you warm winter.

Are you a cartwheel?

A suspicious glance?

A still wind?

We can help you get back to work.

We offer many courses:

Earth Spinning

Bone Knitting

Light Painting –

and certifications in

Prebirth Fantasy,

Pain Sculpture

Freeway Fashion.

Visit us today in the Building of Roses,

at the corner of Air and Fire.

Shipwreck

Gloomy, graceful ghosts

lounge under a beach umbrella.

They are nudists.

They are as frosted glass.

No sunburns will befall them

as they get drunk.

And carouse on the beach where they

washed ashore

Ultraviolet Mafia

Ultraviolet mafia

exacting private taxes on the air.

Oxygen is an independent element.

Yet shrieks when hydrogen is rended from it.

Hi.

I am a neutron.

Hi.

I am an imaginary number.

Hi.

I am dark matter.

Light blows this way

then that,

a cheap exotic dancer.

Contortionist.

Extortionist.

And always the ultraviolet mafia

is skimming some off the top.

Black Pink

Black pink

Space in a coma.

Sugar up and down.

Sour Sundays stay out of sight.

We are not as rich as we think we are.

Yet I have an untried umbrella,

a love of picket fences,

and black pink.

Watermother

My watermother holds my heat for me

ambles through my mind reminding me

Hair won’t comb itself.

Yellow cables radiate sunshine and trigonometry.

I think about all the weeds in the sidewalk cracks

of the neighborhood where I grew up.

One woman planted roses,

A confused cloud asked no one in particular,

What does it mean to rain?

Watermother is tender.

She helps me take off my aluminum slippers,

my slummy makeup,

her mind an ever-growing equation like a cancer.

Shadow Men

Fat shadows hulk across the afternoon.

Frilly lines flounce in the sun.

My sweat is sick,

and change eludes me

Who are these shadow people

dragging across the hours?

Designing My Own Destruction From Glitter

The road curls into

a ring I wear on my finger.

The humid spring air squeezes through

my open window,

fat

sweet

and loved.

Somewhere out there I am a baby

Writing great epistolaries in brooding vomit.

In the center of a field,

I’m ignorant,

sophisticated,

too generous,

my senses plundered

by clouds of venom

I can’t go back to the day I left

My universe of birth

and I don’t want to.

I rinsed the dust of it from my hair.

I glow pure yellow into the waking calendar,

designing my own destruction from

glitter.