31 July 2016

With Age

Yellow dreams,
shapes of curtains
holding small arguments.
Cradle large, sad eyes.
Cradle large, sad mouth.
Whisper public knowledge,
and scream every secret,
a tickle in the throat,
a daring charge,
static in the heart.
If this is the death knell,
if this is the bed my
fullness will know,
then I am ready.
Cradle complex shoulders,
with the weight of broken things,
lies yellow around the edges with age.

22 July 2016

Watch and Wait

I have cereal, but no milk--
a heart, but no brain.
I have empty boxes
and a lonely mattress
on the floor.

When the watchmaker asked me
how long I wanted to wait,
I responded, out of breath,
I would wait forever,"

but these calloused hands
make no bread.
These fingers press buttons
and document "self-
care, self-

I have cereal, but no milk--
nothing left over
for my cat to quietly drink,
to quietly meditate over.

He is content watching a bird
through a closed window,
never knowing how to hunt,
only how to watch and wait

and wait.

01 July 2016

Old Stories

Invade my shores
and then leave
once there's nothing left
but scraps for buzzards.
Centuries pass and you
put frozen peas
on my swollen heart
and trace in all capital letters
the name I take from you.
At least, that's how you say
it ends--with some sort
of corruption, some imperialism,
some ice cream
by the lake,
a smaller shore
than you're used to.