NOSTALGIA OF A WORKNIGHT
She’s weary as an unused toy—unwrapped,
not touched. She’s not hidden but by herself
in back of a toybox, under the snapped
off arm of her last doll. She thinks a shelf
might be nice. She’d like to hear the soft click
as her nightlight went dark and slipped
into a sleep...
Heirloom
When your mother raises her hand; earthy
brown, skin cracked open—
sun parched field—
iron hot temper
and hits you
the pain melts your
flesh,
bones,
marrow.
When your mother raises her hand to
strike you
the pain bites (your pet rabid dog).
She throws the foliage of her swallowed dreams—
barren land that was hers
and her mother’s
and her mother’s mother
who couldn’t...
Ode to Muezzins
Muezzins used to climb the minaret to make the call to prayer…
(after Stefan Kaegi)
Oh to be on call five times daily
and feat days
ready to roll
cocksure in your three-balled
alabaster minaret outpost
honeyed and hyssoped throat
nose to the windscreen
positioned just so
between your faith
and a vintage Shure 55SW anodyne mic
an array...
universe
ants working underground
not understanding
world beyond earth
computer magic
inside god box
angels wildly dancing
google and amazon music
on hold
commuter gridlock
sea of stationary cars
anxious egos idling
On the Crossroads
O’ father,
hold my fingers in your firm grip
and help me cross the road.
Suspicion
I’ve burnt myself half, fortuitously.
And deliberately, left the rest unburned.
Bike Accident
Helmet transforms into a skull.
The road runs as usual.
Insomnia
Night burns into an ashtray.
I fly to you with the wings of ashes.
Apiary
My friend Sharon raises bees.
In her veil she cranks the handle
of the silver bee smoker
calming the hives.
Bearding, swarming
in the intimate harmony
in which nectar becomes honey
or beeswax candles for any altar.
Scouts return with tales of pollen.
The gilet jaunes
swirl around the point Zero
buzzing with anger at the money
the rich will spend
to...
Paradise
lonely feet on a subway train
at half past midnight
she misses paradise
where every day she would
collect a pocket full of shells
why not give her home away
for another trip to the coastline without a name
our lady train rider flashes back to the nights
where she would stumble drunkenly with
another girl who split...
On Reflection
a silent tree frog
clings to broken shelves of stone
rippled by the breeze
water colors blend and blur
illusions of perfection
Beads
clusters of black pearls
press into the palms of clouds—
a broken necklace
that slips between my fingers
rains upon this garden path
A Dream of Youth
When we meet, we’ll fly together
caressing each other
with our enthralling beak,
We’ll sing the half-elapsed song
Twitter, twitter, twitter...
We’ll territorialize the sky,
Colonise her spheres,
Our wheezing would form thunder.
We’ll bathe in the rainbow,
Suck the evening twilight,
Soar down to nestle in
the unfamiliar nest of opportunity.
We’ll mouth each other’s adventure,
Will laugh...
A Fever of Living
Some nights step lightly,
like lily-shadows in blue water-
apparitions in transit, between dreams.
She awakens in a translucent purgatory-
a tread from an incipient dream
to a feverish slumber, to a body -
a map of nocturnal metamorphosis,
lacerated fish belly sewn with orange seams,
eyes like butterflies in rivulets of pee,
unmade and...
Along the River
We point out the different birds to one another.
Like teenage boys showing off their knowledge of astronomy.
Find goldfinches and cedar waxwings in the trees along the river,
tiny redpolls and grosbeaks chasing gnats down below.
In the water, cormorants lurk, wings spread like vultures
night-herons stalk lumbering carp in slow...
Home
It was party time.
I went to a party
at a known place.
It was party time.
I went to the party
as their chief guest.
It was party time.
I went to a party
at a house
I used to live,
for some time.
Ode to a Graveyard
City of angels
tombed in silence.
A solemn stillness
is held in the air.
A hollow...