Youth

Something I'm working on:

Youth of Michigan Summer


Tall blemished youth,
unshaken, but slouching
down the valleys of age,
casting shadows like clockwork
on the passing day—
beware of easy apathy,
stop looking down your nose at Pall Mall Blues,
throw out your opera and pick up a kazoo—
And hum three thousand miles
of shoreline, hum
like quiet Detrois
in overgrown wild-lace,
hum the language
of euchre, hum
for Motown-Soul-No-More.

Mouth open in Hoffmaster,
howl with the coyotes,
tall blemished youth, sound thrown
like a ribbon from your throat,
ignore Ionia St. bar crawl
like it were leprous—
but don't ignore the lepers,
pariah fringe slab sleepers.

Tall blemished youth,
c-lo grip knuckles,
burning away
the sweet incense of $uccess,
supping on Spinach Pie,
searching for the vinyl
heart of Sunday morning
—cherry-pick your way West,
open your heart to Rainer Maria
Rodents, throw Hemingway out the window
and read the sky—Clouds rolling
like laughing immigrants,
clouds sometimes blankets,
old family quilts,
clouds of rain for earthworms
and apple trees,
clouds rarely not at all.

Run your hands in the dirt,
form a world of reflection,
for the solstice passes,
the sun's gaze diminishes,
and with it, the world
you've run through becomes
something old again.

Sing

when you cannot sing


when you cannot sing loud, sing
laced with tender notes.
make soft your everything.

when you cannot cry out, cry
wholly from your bones.
make soft your everything.

and fill your oven with eggplant parmesan, lay
the afghans across the sofa, for peace will come
walking slow out of the morning veils,
toward your creaking voice, hungry and shivering.

when you cannot dream, sleep
heavily spread over the humming night.
flicker your eyes again.

when you cannot run, walk
honest with a face made for the day.
flicker your eyes again.

and sprinkle cloves in with the cookies—you
uncorked refugee—scribble a joy on your wrist
for the humdrum march of tomorrow, turn off the lights,
undress, learn the tune of your skin.

Ghosts

Two Glowing Ghosts (in a World So Tall)


Oh I glowed with you tonight,
rode a little hum song,
flickering pinprick song
of the rippled stratus sky,

song of joy from the daily mudly bravery
of rolling from bed and taking
root in the stark breath of morning.

We whispered this little hum song
to the laughing river, we peeled back
lichens and found faded scars—
the names of love.

And when we heard the drawling night train,
we laid on our soft bellies, smeared
in blue twilight, parted the leaves of grass,
ears to the sod—

two glowing ghosts
with clattering heartbeat
moving down the line.