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

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.

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

Youth

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

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

Emergency

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

Sunfall

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