arms to die for

28 Feb

sometimes we

unearth things

we unrecognize

as ours

when on a new site

armed with our

finest keenest most

definitely polished tools

each nestled in

their own

leather sheath of course

each winking saucily in

the sun no we don’t know us

not even when

dusting off each

find with our

own eyelashes

sifting sediment from

sentiment

with our mouths

with some great

earnest no

we unremember

the chrysalis

shards of our

unloved bodies

but yes please

let’s restudy

us all the

same

the sound of bells

26 Feb

i do not think

of you

not when the blue birds

figure eight

under the clouds

not when the sharp

green fang of

spring gives way to

debutante frills

not even once

when the storm of

butterflies

flew up into

the mists between

the trees

not the gasp of

delight

not the months

that do razor by

not the minutes it takes

the sun to finally sleep

not the courage of

the moon

who fasts for

us all

not

ever

no passengers

24 Feb

truth is weeds

that grow hardy in

cracked dirt

sidewalk crevices

snaking along

a fence line

yellow and busted open

wild and friendly

consistent

all year long growing

thorny when threatened

faces towards the sun

green tendrils touching

unexpectedly

soft and velvety

(yes)

we are

weeds loving weeds

living anyway

loving the only way

we know how

you

and

me

distant bells

17 Feb

place a gem on

the window sill

for every day since

we stood

this close

build a glittering

temple with all

the stones that

finally

threatened to form

a mountain

rival the constellations

with the shimmering city

i now live in

but only

when no one

is looking

just a note

14 Feb

the sickest

black on

every tree

a shiny blistered

mile or so

of charred skeletons

ticky tacky

tired twists

still in salute to the

brooding

boo-hooing sky

and at their

feet

green velvet

grown so

plush it

stands on its

own shoulders

and has begun to

climb

but darling

if i could

make you

a flask of

it would

you

please tell me you

oh my lord

can you just

drink

perfect prism

12 Feb

there in the longest

shadow of

winter

formed a bud

a bud of such

perfect sloe eyed pink

of such lush green

dewy blanketing

of such singular

experience because

nothing this gorgeous

would ever dare to

bloom

again

yet this bloom can be

held by anyone

a future flower of

understanding

tearing out of

it’s own thorny

heart oh

holiest of

holy

love

olive trees

7 Feb

i waved into the distance

and asked

can you hear that

whippoorwill

and don’t you think

she sounds sad

you inclined your

head how you do

when you are startled

i didn’t know that sad sound

was coming from

outside of

me

out in the field

3 Feb

i did not wish for

sorrow to light

on my shoulder and

dig it’s claws into

my flesh until

i began to see

sorrow’s shadow

along with my own

i did not ask for

a forever companion

one that gnashes its teeth

all night

drinks too many cups

of coffee

squirrels away

good things

in case the

the good things

expire

loses words like

breadcrumbs

until it forgets

how to write at all

unrememembers how

to laugh

i did not ask for

sorrow yet

sorrow

asked for

me

two birds no stone

24 Jan

you are not a

necromancer

of the heart you

cannot cut your own

wrist and hold it

to the lips of

heartache and

say

eat baby

you cannot chop

off all the tender

branches and

call a scalped

thing

reborn

you cannot

spin your web around

a memory and call it

lunch

but you will and

there in the valley

of despair

you will

plant you

again

distant arrows

20 Jan

i had a dream that

you brought me jewels

that you swam up on

my shores

salty and thirsty

as ever

threw yourself on

my soft swelling

dunes

shook yourself off

and with a roar

showed me a

mouth full of your

hard shiny

love