Humanity: Raw & Unfiltered
Having lined up her affairs, Skin smooth in oil, preserved her Ancient perfume resonates— Disperses its silky depths, I dream Of her incinerating baggage; Replacing it with pockets. Unanchored she leaves— Sails the Mediterranean Blue as newborn eyes, free as infancy To float to the edge of the ocean & Read more
Your glass is rattling, A broken bell on the rocks, But it is not time yet. You scrape the meat to the side, Then set down the knife, I Call you in to cut the cake— Red velvet, a flower arrangement For you to gently pick at, You lean over Read more
She hangs Baskets by birdcages Flowers, a shovel, paper weights On loose newspapers that flutter In the wind—a bearing, A stone garden for zen. Wing clippings. I heard She had a backstreet abortion Once she crossed the law— She knows no-more-wire-hangers Better than I do, I imagine The Swinging Sixties Read more
Blue-fire trumpet perking her young velvet, little blossomed bud new & blue-brite kind, strung noble on her vine. Plucked, not plumped-up or blushed fully Heavenly yet. Blue-Whirling flame of hot-cool Heaven fire. Royal & sweet hot-oiled, delicately spread— open for the inhale of morn. Petal peeled back, downcast blues lighting Read more
I unearthed a seahorse—lithe and dried, Slumped heavy in sand and Sweltering by the microwave of The smoldering sky. It laid bent and braided, bore black Pinprick eyes, and had found throne By the salty phalanges of Poseidon’s clench The gulls had gawked and the Sun had stalked my bony Read more
bursts of summer and yellow-eyed butterflies and a chiseled sculpture, worn down, flat like a stiff tuxedo cuff, risen and engraved in the hearth of hard dirt wetted by rain with wood stumps like starfish be dazzling grey roses, dried and wrapped in baby thorn coats winding round drooping oak Read more
Within her green garden, our hedged veranda filled with buckets of lilies, sweet herb pockets, a sunburnt chandelier dimming in the breeze— Our garden with hydrangeas, and thistle vines, and azaleas in phantom fuchsias, though if only we could still sew posy wreaths. Rings around Margaret, May forgotten petals to Read more
