Friday, March 29, 2013

To be told it is time

when I step outside of here
my head no longer glued to this
and strapped to the edges of things
or even fanned so that cool words
having more to say than water
clinging in desperate droplets
to the idea of winter
imprint themselves here

I will be alive and well
and you’ll remember me
for the years it took to explain
the way in which you took your toll
on the everyday

selling short for your own kindness
things that could have
seared further into your belly
or your heart or mine
watching the flames’ tongues dance
in new formations speaking
clearly it is not for you to say
I will think later
that I am right in this

and from there your words
will open like wings
or like the lips of a wound
a flower which holds
so much fragrance
that it makes tongues speak
catching their words
in a kiss forming waiting
to be told it is time

to be told it is true
you don’t have to come
you only did and no matter

it is simply a need
solitude craved for nights on end
in which you burned for this

Thursday, March 28, 2013

Bone Density

Winter highways give me bone density tests on the daily.
They say my bones are denser than my head can handle.
I wait for words, set fire to the sound a sheep makes in my brain.
It’s the kind of flame that heals us from our loss of touch,

From a swirling nothingness that follows its own path.
Those grains of sand my mind still knows will turn to glass,
And they’re crystallizing in my eye like bits of light that someday
Will have something to say about the questions no one can answer.

It’s still a question of what to do with density in the skull.
Why your bones wonder why you tell them what to ask.
Why you love the type of sun that hangs just outside your eye
And you wish you had wings: the most deafening quiet on earth.

Thursday, March 7, 2013

Apology to a Mexican matchbook

I wanted to tap the source
That cat’s meow spelled differently
reaching shadow water
golden ripples that encroach on gold
torn up sheets of this
an animal in my brain 
a glowing kingdom
or a waterline of ants
trickling down across this conquered vision-landscape
while Columbus ached
for something worse


waiting for places
where the leafwords speak
without the gaze of wolfeyes
altering their meaning
in concrete earthquakes
waving to meeting flags
from a desert in a yawning mouth
calling the dance
being stars from close up
when the gods are blankets
that fall on our heads

Saturday, March 2, 2013

Burning airplanes

free in the wild three day moment
where your words grow wings like beanstalks
if you’re made of rock
you’ll be made to shake off feathers
sacks of sadness from your eyes
you can see tired into the clouds of your hair
it’s been a day for blue upsets
and carryon dreams


new poems thanks for reading you are sure to grow wings at some point next week STOP this is a telegram for calculators growing roots in the sky and for other invitations... next time you speak there will be cause for celebration STOP delegates from around the corner STOP there are dragonflies in your eyes STOP disintegration and smoke will not stop the colors of wildfires from growing roots in your hearts STOP this has been a way of saying things will remain the same for a while STOP include this in your bio STOP next time you're satisfied the way things turn out will be your next cause for cashing in your calliope for a fountain pen and a castle in the crags STOP


othersides come up out of nowhere
my heart red-brown like the hum inside paints
where is it you said you’d go
when the furniture started talking
I assume it’s a place where you can speak
to quieting-down colors
in a softly spellcasting pose I think
its time we let the blood shed its heat upon stars
and feel the sun fall seeking that drip of golden soul eyes