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.

The Life of White

Beneath the whitest pearl sky

the scent of pink lemonade wafts.

The sun is glass.

Fields trimmed in lace.

Hoards of human paraphernalia

burning, under the magnifying glass.

It’s the life of white to destroy in gentle tides.

The bitter angels in us,

the blacker angels outside.

My blood pearls. A necklace to wear.

My spirit in my high heels. Give me a scotch.

Give me talcum powder.

Embalm the fog that veils my name.