The willow won’t swaythe sage won’t scent the goldfinch won’t nest the life vest will not inflate the eyes won’t widen the sun won’t care the ink won’t flow the war-lords will not congregatethe clouds won’t lift the swans shall stay put endlessly the sea to be a never-ending barren witlessness& the darkness never felt The tongue is a dream.Nothings happens unless first a dream.
Self-reliance is the wind coming through the prayer flags whistling like a pair of overalls on a hot autumn’s day. The gravy’s cooling and the counter is clean and strong as the willowthat boy doesn’t bow. The front door opensso soft and sweeping his lover comes home her arms full of rain —
It’s pleasing to the mind to findthat I have everything I need. All I hadpreviously reckoned sub-par, I now wagglemy fairy wand at and pronounce: ample. Ambition, improvement, constant venturing to be better than average, this shit is addicting. From the top of the stone towerto the daisy chains below, I cannot get enough. To now breathe deeply, objectively assess, let the senses take wind with the changes in … Read More Preparations for a Cycle Journey
a good one,with acrobatic knights and archers lancing cupcakes full of candy rain. Dogs had tongueslike streets-sweepers, properly fed they slept happy.It was a victory dream. Nobody lied. No tears were shed. The dogs lived the longest of all and there was naught a cat to take the blanket. The sun and her spectators clapped wildlywhistling blades of grass between long fingers until the moon grew jealous and picked up a … Read More I Dreamed Today,
The first organizer was Noah. Tied to a boat he counted giraffes on all ten fingers, mumbling as he went, here Dolly, HERE Angus, no not like that—chocolate-like he tempered himself to the toes. Did the predators forget their evolution? Pocket eyes staring out of lacy skulls, daggering antelopes like hot summer cantaloupe. A gosling gets a splinter do the hyenas go mad with the scent of carnage? Oh Noah. I … Read More Clipboard and Pen
I seek solace in the company of cafe tablesand black aprons. Hair that sways, liquidly, under a rotating fan. I write in the companyof strangers, in order to be myself. As if I could hear the words from their lips instead of feel the conversation like a forest. As if it could not matter when the forest was on fireor still, peaceful in dew dreams under a rising … Read More Tandem
Clasping my hands behind my back, I survey the sights from the kitchen window and breathe deeply the wind that docks from the mountain tops tucked in clouds. All is fair, if one counts birds and lemon treesagainst the straying plastic trash kicked up by flattened car tires and pulsing hydrants. The neighbor boys clatter skateboards against the stretched asphalt, heat dust wavering between ground and sky. Crisped linen shirts wiggle freelyon laundry … Read More Open Window