Wed, September 13, 2006 i realize you first
on the grass like a claw
pointy and heroic
escaping gutters
to grip here.
my thoughts on this:
you are delicately wet
holding fast to a two-month
plot at the most;
you are simply meteoric
scratching at my door;
as a pair we're palpitating
caught up in trees in
oversized skirts
held on by safety pins
fastened at the place
in the back where
you'll get the best look.
Tue, September 12, 2006 question.
when did i become
so floaty
i'm growing a pair
of wings,
disposable and slight.
i say fold them in
and come down from there.
Thu, August 10, 2006 i sit prim, seemingly delighted
to slice a letter opener
through offensive silence,
my hunger squared away.
10 am thunder assaults a tin roof,
reminding me to feel awkward
for wearing a skirt,
to be aware of my status
as a broken neon sign.
stockpiles of cold books mingle
past soup-infused staircases,
brick walls, where i smack
my face and scratch my knees.
i speak with rollercoaster intonation
and we're smears of spackle
and i knew i was going nowhere
in a city with dark circles.
Mon, July 17, 2006 summer deposits a neon moth
caught in my windshield blade,
revolving, promising to try.
a tree seed circles,
holding on for mere seconds
and then lets go to land
on a melting road.
Wed, July 5, 2006 why the thought of frost
in this disjointed symbol of summer,
beams overhead erasing color here
filling in rose saucers there.
perfunctory flashes behind glasses
reflecting competing statements
non-linear and layered.
everything here is sediment,
taking turns revealing, not
weaknesses and ring boxes
where we keep our fabrications.
later, chemistry prompts me to manipulate
his palm cupping mine with moist wrinkles
shrinking in the flaws of our generation.