June 2010
29 posts
5 tags
one hundred
days down
in words
i stretch
crack knuckles
and prepare
the next
one hundred
5 tags
and low thunder was our lullaby
the percussion of rain rising
as we fell into a humid sleep
4 tags
he attacked the canvas with red and still it would not bleed so he took his knife and slashed it and with gasoline torched the studio and stood back watching satisfied as the paintings burned with flames of an unusual hue
4 tags
smothering under this summer cold
my sleeping mind pursues strange dreams
to shock my mouth open for breath
3 tags
4 tags
large as a leaf and hairy
the spider that scuttled
to avoid the crunch of my step
on a midnight street,
and horrified there we froze
each fearing the other,
the nightmare squelch
the poison bite,
and the moment having passed
we went our separate ways
5 tags
in an unthinking moment with
my sunglasses upside down
the sky goes dark
the ground grows bright
and i stand there squinting
into the earth’s blinding core
3 tags
here’s a thought
now take it
and go
4 tags
when you are away i shrink
or the house grows large,
the living room a lifetime’s walk
i crawl the thousand ant-steps
to bed, lost and stumbling
in the wide plain of its sheets
and for want of sleep i map
the land your body formed there
in creases: this soft desert
where i wait for you to return
1 tag
my father spoke a language
foreign to me
before he knew any other
and it is gravel in my throat
3 tags
4 tags
how do i explain lonliness to you
when you’re not here
and how, when you return,
i no longer need to explain?
4 tags
the scent of fresh cut grass releases summer from its jar all green and buzzing with wings and i am knocked over backward into school vacations once suntanned and grass-stained and scratched by forest claws my filthy paws around iced tea now steaming cold with crackling ice to quench the memory of my bottomless thirst for the sun
3 tags
this text could change
before you read it again
6 tags
tread water,
there are things
down there
sharp of tooth
and translucent
in the darkness
beyond your pale
and kicking legs
5 tags
where’s the poetry in a project plan?
what delicate turn of phrase
ever drew tears from a fiscal report?
why does the love of language end
until we see the bottom line?
6 tags
4 tags
the morning was calm
without temperature
a white filtered light
through windows
muffled sound and
there was no weather
as i woke
made coffee
and waited
for something to happen
4 tags
i will rend souls
draw tears
tomorrow perhaps,
even horror
sometimes sleeps
5 tags
(slowly)
we kiss &
the tide pulls sand
from beneath our feet
& (slowly)
we sink
5 tags
this man beside me
new suited, mothball-smelling
something has been preserved
or pickled & he sleeps on the train
scowling between stations
dreaming formaldehyde
5 tags
any single
word,
how many
lips
have kissed
it
before mine
tasted
its glacial
change
in consonants
savoured
on tongues
over
slow centuries,
how
can we
form
any definition
for
words when
they
define us
and
in time
we
become only
the
language left
behind
5 tags
3 tags
the woods aren’t so bad, she said
if only they weren’t so dirty
4 tags
exhaustion presses its palms to my eyes
sometimes i am tired even in dreams
peeling back layers of sleep to go deeper
4 tags
the ashes of my attention
were burned to disk
then scattered
7 tags
your mother towered over us
made us tiny fleshy things
easily bitten into like fruit
she was beautiful fearsome
in passion filled with secrets
and between her legs we ran
giggling children all but you
her first child you her mother
for louise bourgeois
3 tags
May 2010
30 posts
4 tags
oh, you poison seed
fear, you bitter vine
twisting, you bloom
acidic, black fruit
trembling, a future
in my gut, uneaten
