Turning (draft)

Examine the tree-
a man stands
tall yet bending,

always bending
towards sky
to ground and all

his little leaves
trembling
like children

in such wind,
such wind whose
hands pull down

and ripping,
dancing, skipping
over hills... escape.

Look at stars-
a woman drinking
light, becoming

near morning,
a bird
whose eyes propose

to poppies
wildly
growing...

whose tongues
swallow
"brightness"

like shell
built around
the belly.

See the night-
dark, young
and knowing

the wings
of moth,
soft

sails
folded
under-

moving.

Red

Somehow
I knew God

wore red-

a sunset,
scarlet-cloaked

liquid
thread

that flows

in and through
the rose,

its blood-

berried
twilight

seamed.

Agnostic Interruptus

The weight of,
pressing on
an artery-

scarcely
beating.

There is no
proof of,
as it slips

away.

This
is not
what was

intended-

death by
knowing of

sense-less.

Lessons Of (An Eye)

Here, sylph-like
syllables of being

silver stained,
snow-tipped

and mist
too bright

for eyes
to fasten; this

blinding sight
which passes

over rims
of sky-

brilliant white-ness
traveling.

Xylem

How wood ages-
degenerates
to sepia; leaves
dropping.

When the body
erodes, burnt down,
molts gilding...
platelike.

After the canary
sings, its chorus
peeled slowly
like a dream.

That Black Dress (draft)

That black dress
made your breasts
penitent magnolias

(mouths praying)

and your hips curved
wide like the sea where
dolphins are born,

the zipper against
your back- an ingress
to secret roads

(few men have traveled)

the waist, tight as
throat when the eye
sees far-too fragile things

(imagine a hand
around a small bird)

the skirt, the sky
within which lies
burning clouds at sunset

(God's fiery face)

when you take it off-
moon's gold flesh against
the dark cloth of night.

Two Things

Of two things
I am certain...

"I am"

and

"brevity".

Earthward (draft)

Far fell white sheets
of thunder like severed wings
made heavy by their free-ing

in such a storm, we stand
weighted by our reason
(thick as moist soil)

the journey earthward
wiser than resisting
(study the rain)

Thief

No one knew I
had advised you
that stealing

bread was forgiveable-

we are designed
to feed on stars
not to conceal them.

And what you offer
to the hungry night

your crumb-filled hands,
your lasting faith,
your monumental thirsting

bears witness to
your only crime-

existence.

To Puncture (draft)

Ignoble one- to you
I leave a needle
(sliver as thin)

pray that you use it
when it's still
(shiny)

sew expertly
from pulse to point
the jagged (life)

prick your fingers,
press the night
and (mend)

a leper's coat,
the bitter skin,
(the open vein)

remember the unfinished
things- the heart,
the breath (departing).

Black and Grey

Red, the color of roses
beneath faded blue, the color
of a german boy's eyes

around the white organs
of a novel I wrote when
I had nothing to say;

a dirty street sign with
the word "run" spray painted
by some ruffian over a command

STOP

is my confusion common?
and we run as if we could
ever catch "ourselves"

in colors or words or
symbols. It is no mistake,
we are moving through even as

the book is closed, even as
our best stories dissolve
into black and grey.

Here We Dwell

We are not perhaps
a face reading

poor, sad and infinitely
terrified

in dusk-light;

now, eyes confess
you have imagined fog

when sky, clear
and mind approached

transparency of sight

as equally bruised
moon stretches towards

tongues of flame
and night

for no reason but
to touch

the wings of flight-

here we dwell and
here we're bound.

Promising (draft)

We would be vain to
compromise (my little
hand in your loose pocket)

The light has stripped
me blind- even so
I see you

bright and heavy,
lightening in its
dullest form-

comfortable as pocket.

I saved the smallest space
for you, the only one
that holds you

tight and promising.

work in progress

My time is not your time;
these dark walls are my
veins, built by my own
steel hands, buttressed
by my unmeasured word-

spells conjured
by an injured queen
to keep the hounds
at bay.
.