Good Fortune

The coin fed gypsy, returned to the arcade this year freshly repaired and painted. Teeth yellow and faintly brown like Daffodil heads bowing to die, like her crookedly redeemed poesy red cheeks just installed.… Read More Good Fortune

Fly Away Home, Blessed Body

A blue velvet bag opened by this single
Movement – her hand reached
Into the spaciousness above
And all stars’ light unpacked, and
Secreted away in drawer full of daydreams.
Now the seashore glistens
With the promise of night, and
Eternally luminous
With all the befores,
And all the ever afters,
Moving our millions of tears
Into a single smiling river.
“Goodnight my beautiful bodies,”
And we fly away home, laughing.… Read More Fly Away Home, Blessed Body

Eventide

Riding passenger side snapping right, I’m down in front stealing long exposures. From the back seat our youth sits Mocking us with instant polaroids. Destroyed pictures of minutes and memory Precious and precarious slip a stone At once here and at once gone. Right under the driver breaks hard and higher Up another mile, silently… Read More Eventide

Florida, State Your Name

Slowly dripping outside busy windows
Only two minutes, like eggs timed, yet
She’s done cooking. With eyelashes, false
Newly bred widows sit with spidery eyes,
Single fingers silently making reservations for twos.
They reapply the glue, so unkind, that humidity.… Read More Florida, State Your Name

Shadow Dancing

Until the day comes when my breath no longer returns from the night, Now visible from my lungs, freed into the winter air… Read More Shadow Dancing

Present Perfect

I find all the sunshine ever shined,
Filtered through my forests, my pin pupil eyes.
And I, without permission,
Acting out against all advice –
Finally stare into the sun.… Read More Present Perfect

The Country of Illness

In the country of Illness
I live in a town called sick
Squabbling and wordless
Rounded outwardly and thick.… Read More The Country of Illness

The Second Line

Not the first, nor ever last, The Second Line dances ecstatically past. Behind the mourners, they’re not the saints, All uplifted, marching in crowded street’s restraints. Wheeling, turning, lift and fall with porch swings, All souls rise upon the polls and upon night’s owl’s wings. Arriving I walked through stranded streets, Leaving, I grasp a heart… Read More The Second Line

Saving Rescuers

Stronger than knives or strokes and
Beleaguered, lonesome old oaks,
Together again, those wings, the trees,
Gasping at them as I forgot to sing.
Spanning years’ dimly stated demands
Its our last night in the Neverland.… Read More Saving Rescuers

Filming Pilgrims

A well-positioned boy who smokes out a window,
Discarding his amusement for a hummingbird.
His green sharkskin suit, brightly alert –
Dusted by sunshine, weakened with night.
Heartbeats, just over a wing he spots you.
In the span of a wink,
He’s gone from the ledge.… Read More Filming Pilgrims