Sunday, September 30, 2012

mas. (from Beaverdam; nudes 2001)

struggling
to find a pen before
the sounds leave me

inspiration from this
dirt seat
rock pillow shared with
lady bird beetles
and ants

old men holding hands
walking to
free coffee church
look to save me

annoy me

my ride is sure
to pass me by
in one of these
white foreign cars

blue hair and still
drunk left over
from my one
night gone (
my one night hotel
out of my
ninety hour prison)

-my surest sacred dream

my partner sleeps
soundly-
surely, in a bed alone
which i can not find
and
i have found
heaven alone in
this disguise of
street urchin flames

scabbing- mostly healed
ink
it tells the story
of how to find me
-bending
the eaves of the gate
and leaves on this tree
drop one, every moment
to remind me
___
every thing i wish
to spill in thoughts
so subtle
while i am too bored
or happily rested
to scratch down,

i am the few
the proud
the bird
the stop:sigh
and green sign
hanging from
the border of this
picture-framed
small town in
big city mama's clothes,
i write one last farewell and
blow my nose.

Saturday, September 22, 2012

none, found notes

the sun
,
set searing cold
breezes through

un sheilded
.eyes

it was
perfection
in stop -
motion

nothing
more
for
now
required

Thursday, September 6, 2012

late summer rains fall hard, beating newness into destruction


as the majority of the
herd migrates back
towards the familiar
grazing fields of home
for now

a hard rain falls on
the sand
and on the roads

separating the microbes
and grime specks from
blistered blacktop

the remains of weather beaten
sea glass chewing gum
and solarcained silica

yep
the rain falls hard
as the thunder rolls
telling us all
the bank is closing
and the storm that feeds us
is approaching

Sunday, September 2, 2012

birthday for p.

i was drawing you a peony
as the season's wrong for fresh ones
and the sun was taken from me
by nimbulous distraction

and so i started dreaming
and flowers and the garden
and dreaming really thinking
turned my flower into laughter

the petals glow
where tears once ran
along a sandy cheek

they light the face
which lights for those
the room as in you peek

i wake and sketch
and i can't draw
but if i could i think
a flower just can't say enough
peony red, or pink

so here's my stem
as pretty as me
to lay down by your door

to keep all other weeds away
while you are looking for.