The moon hangs like ice
upon the crocus blossoms;
the young lovers part.
The baker lights the oven,
turning to shape the day’s bread.
(September 9, 2016)
-
a conjured space
What has he done?What has she done?What has been saidto raise the dead?The ground shifts,nowhere to stand;some lines written,slack and unspoken,turn tight circleslike an old dogaround his mat:a shuffled step,some common words,despite his wishan absent kiss.(September 8, 2016) -
break up
by
He was a glass doll.Yet another figurinecollected upon her shelf.Too late understanding,he slipped throughher studied nonchalance.In slow motion,he shatteredinto cocktail ice:bits of himself scattered,a fingerless hand,a broken face.He thought she knew,but was mistaken.(September 6, 2016) -
Within Simple Desires
“hope and sex and dreamsAre still surviving on the streetLook at me, I’m in tatters!”–Richards and JaggerI returned before your words, in the silent spacesspoken between us, let loose like butterflieslifting as one from a rosemary bushto dizzy the air with their dance’s delight.I focused on our conversation’s minutia,worried each splintered half-word reaction;as if our pasts could be rebuilt from wisps,or salvage a dry hope into an exotic other.Not quite falling, nor quite balanced,I stumbled, passing my world’s horizonin the parabola of a songbird’s flight;until shattered, like tufts of frozen feathers,across the shifting floor, my day’smosaic failed to form a coherent webto cocoon my trouble thoughts away.(September 5, 2016) -
no answer is also an answer
yes is the defaultyes is the hammerto the frozen noslivers of iceembed like knivesin the virgin snowno yes let meguess to answeris to acquiesceas if tic-tac-toe’sfutile x’s and o’sline-up in a rowthe cat smiles smuglybored as its essence(September 2, 2016) -
Ars Poetica
I write about whatI think about; and for years,I’ve thought about you.(September 2, 2016) -
again
by
then he’s seventeenwith all the awkwardhems and haws andhesitant responsesthere is nothingexcept everythinglife and dreamsfold so to the otherone tense shiftspresent to pastno differenceto be parsedlove endureswords fail(September 1, 2016) -
still life, two unfinished metaphors
as when you stand stillbefore the door eyes closedhand resting on the latchgently for the momenta quick breath and sighestablishes a spacearound you like prayerand you quietly leaveas when on the highwayfor your commute
and the light’s differentthen you sense the roadis no longer your roadand you are no longer lost(August 30, 2016) -
First Thought Upon Hearing
by
My son’s wife’s pregnant:I wanted to tell my mom,dead now these eight years.(August 29, 2016) -
permeable
by
I am a thincaulstretched and shreddedthe holes growtattering melike a netragged on a pierbeneath the unrelenting sunblood cakes acrosscracked lipswhat I said nowwhat you said thencollapsesonto sandy rock(August 27, 2016) -
Four Haiku for a Lost Full Moon
It has rained for days,rare for a Texas August:the moon lost in clouds.I too have been lost—low clouds blur the sky with rain;no sultry red moon.To what do I rise?The lake black in warm moonlight?Another year’s gone.With patience one waits;green corn rustles through the field.The moon ripens too.(August 21, 2016) -
metronome
she moved betweennow and thenunaware of oneor which was wherefor weeks after worksun’s last lightsifted shadowsthrough her roomshe was loved enoughto watch her dieto hear her breath’sslow waltz count timewe came and went likewhispers down the hall(August 20, 2016)
subtext 