Regard the sun. She winks with lashes tall as liesshe smooths the edges of her liquidgrin and calls the birds to flight before my eyes. Can but even one crab make it across the black lava rock before the tide folds itself once more upon the shore? I would extend my stick to him if I could, but my hands dissolveagainst the wood and I come to rest. Three o’clock. Ticking. Ticking. … Read More A Net to Snare the Sunlight
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
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
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
A blue bike leans against the iron railing. It is bright summertime in Ukraine and the railroad lady tends a garden full to blooming with cucumbers, beetroot, squash she bends over in a frock like livery. Her blue buttoned uniform blossoms from beneath the frock, the cuffs kissed with splashes of dirt kicked up from the motley flower pots. She hears a distant whine— she unties the bow and drapes it on the … Read More Oksana