Sonnet 1

Sonnet 1


Origami cranes fed to the sunset
folded with arthritic knuckles tired
with gunpowder eyes staring out
over to the window prying the blinds out
past the rotting fence the red barn
all the fool's meadows lined with sunset
It would be useless to run now
setting down your paper wings
bushmills and k-hole in-tow
a blown out throat singing
of a sky as grey as God's own dream
that echoes in your lowdown rumble
you dance with all your loose seams
dance waiting for the room to shrivel

New Poem

Something new I've been working on:

Human of Senseless Fire


Is this the naked best of you?
The craned arch in the foot, continually
denying gravity--the ghostly webs that stretch
from body to body, only seen in a fountaining
silhouette, rippling from your arms
like the rings of a tree. The only prejudice
is the truth you have written in your senses--
the tugging gut, last night's melody whimpered low--
the way back to clattering your teeth
in dandelion greens, to your hand-claps for the naked
best moon, the way of the unkempt, frilled intimacy--
these veins stretch out like the countless roots
of wild fig trees, clutching firmly in the rutty ground.

But here in the raisin-sun mornings like this one
where you sling your song to the streetlamp and leave it,
and swagger your derelict tongue to the road--
you are merely cloth and smoke.

New Poem: Deer

Deer


It's the refrain of life that keeps humming
your doe eyes, hoofs, your freckled coat.
It's the ghost of a smile draped from your snowy
lips. These tender circadian frequencies―
your den is nestled under heavenly wing.
It's the early dawn you slip out into, casting shadows
on the dew, while the lost nocturnes drift overhead.
The chatter of the leaves as you bend your neck,
put your nose to the ground. It's the crack of a twig,
your stiff jaunt upwards, your bristling ears,
your whisper, Why?