Saturday, February 21, 2015

oh these aching worlds

tired of banging home
i hang rhythm on their loose
eggshell bones.
i leave something for you
each time i go astray;
a bleak song in your eyes
when your eyelashes kiss me away.
now there is another love
resting, a home in her cheeks
fat as a dolphin, newly-smooth:
in her, something’s released.

what i’m doing in this city

crashing, wings
folded and bruised.
running, feet
aching and used.
loving, empty
heart and shoes.
waiting, crisp
littering news.
wondering, wide
morning my muse.
faking, angry
sheltered excuse.
patient, words
grappling a truce.

seal of me

with you in a coffee cup
with you in the empty van of my head
with you under the heavy blanket of cigarette smoke
with you in the natural epicenter of my bed
with you under the bunker of my thoughts
with you in the goldenrod of your hair
with you in the acrid night
with you in the petulant daylight steaming under a lamp
with you in the dark, a crisp tightening mood
draped on our coffin shoulders.
with you, another road to fly down
passing shards of a house
a field
a lion faced deer
on my way home

bridge over this night

i will drink water
i will run along the brook of my thoughts
and i will count my muscles aching, twitching
vainly, i will number their
bird-like longings
each time one rules over me
the sound of carrying weather, the
stiff heavy heart of ransacked emotion
under the tunnel of my life.

No comments: