sunwhere darknessdecays
Friday, September 25, 2009
Rain
When I had my visionlike the dark structures of communicationturning somewhat lucid I thought these borrowed breaths could picnicfor a century and that distancewould allow the windmillsto stall and dryinto an afternoon landscape and my dear childwill you ever knowhow I saw the greatohio emberrain movelike a hand with its palmsraisedthe admission of the strangethe rainfloating acrossthe impermanent shore another
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Mother with Daughter
There is an interruption being built within the poememptying my bookto drown the addictionthe clean
daypacked a lunchkeeps more of the work in the presentcontinuious presentround mouthneither
the color of wine or waterorators, lovers, and funeralsrain in a dreamhands love youautotelic
The child is a little youyou holding her legs raisedcoupled under your armsroundedoutside of youher
The child is a little youyou holding her legs raisedcoupled under your armsroundedoutside of youher
headnestledunder your chinlong locks of hairone backcurvedback
and you will become someone completely foreign to your self
and you will become someone completely foreign to your self
Echoing
Last century
when the stars cried out their addresses
you slipped off your dresses
the two flowered ones
when the stars cried out their addresses
What were you wearing?
the two flowered ones
the lights dimmed close
What were you wearing
to the earth and whole arms?
the lights dimmed close
were back logging their questions
to the earth and whole arms
and the few like dramas
were back logging their questions
and exaggerated loves
and a few like dramas
blue from the curtains
and exaggerated loves
closing and covered in shadows
blue from the curtains
last century
closing and covered in shadows
you slipped off your dresses
Saturday, September 19, 2009
I am in a Tremendous Dog Fight
It shines
suffices to say
and is done well
like the soon
to be cut lawns
the terrible gravity
of how we place
our ornaments
drifting seeds
without the mailman's
communicable ginseng
with out the men
who fancied my mother
who said this can happen
from the burning streets
and coffee poured cities
and the sense to picnic
like crumbs about your feet
the famous drop cloth
with the occasional factory bell
ringing against a spiraling background.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
New Poem for People Who like New Poems
The boat sails
in a sea of grass
under the May
air eve ocean.
And Clouds
And Clouds
a single wake of
further
after mooring noons.
Midnight. Cleansing
Midnight. Cleansing
the cheerful dream
of the constant love
dropping the dissipated
anchor becoming atmosphere
of our fortunes.
Searching for Traces
No posts
No signs
No sonnets
No ocean
No gloom
No turning
No meaning
No story
No land
No loom
No present
No sleep
No secret
No business
No order
No breeze
No standing
No knowing
No dreaming
No sequel
No echo
No moon
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