Perhaps it is patience,or the slow digestthat lures me to a web. Perhaps it is stillnessand those eight black eyesof a widow’s watch. For nothing runs in the hourglass,no sand, no blood –all things are stilled. As she waits for eons,we have only days,between a love and a winding, And as each swept threadclings to […]
Night prowlers got big eyes,ears that turn like dishescatching on some radio sign –distress or misstep on a twig. I woke to the garbled rageof cats in a thrashover borders or a breached fence – vicious – like a bad sentencemisread as subject and objecttangle for dominion. I woke to a turf war,a scrap over […]
If I were a sunlit dog,I’d bask in the road,eat from your can,shit on your porch. If I were a sunlit dog,I’d be feral as cats,wily as ‘coons –the mouse that chews your cables. I’d be the aphids killing your roses,and the black ants herding them there. I’d be the deer, the pheasant,the skunk, and […]
Between one breath and the next,a slender pause at once puffed and collapsed,at once minute, at once stretched: The day you left home for the last time.The day that green house on a hillbecame a frame, a shingle, a lossand the blind shutting the eyeof a window, once yours, once mine,at once the nestle and […]
It all went limp –the bags, the cobwebs, the rain.even the chains – even the chains,draped loose as curtains, brush the floor.Even the gray stain on the pillow slippeda bit before pausing, the hinge unhung the door.And all the several fibrous hums –the fridge, the gripe, the train, the pipe –an octave lower than before. […]
After the pops we watched,from the window. Rabidor not, the raccoon flailedlike ribbons on a demo fan,life pushed out like pulled airin the driveway. Two morefrom the cop to secure an end,a spectacle, a gathering.Five cracks in the drivewayto bring the neighbors outfor a killing. The mowers wind down.We watched in awe the lastfew pulses […]
Sifting beans for stone,Praise thee this work of our hands.Pluck Pinto from sediment,Calico from jasper, Kidney from bone. And Praise taps run dry, lament thusthe last drop clung to the rim, suspendedRoman and hung as promise, as shrivelledGrace before a dry thick tongue. Don Sunday’s pleat to the river,kneel there and Praise gray the waterthat […]
