on his stage he is
king
he shouts the same
refrain
people
no
more
as he paces
hands gesturing
plucking things from
the very
air
helicopter
arms
he squats down low
stops speaking
listens to
god speak
from
the cement
rises as if
on fire
people
no
more
from the jewel box
17 Julsitting cross legged
under the
glare of the
moon
i will put you down
gently
something i learned
almost too late
when the wreckage
was cleared
the real life
exploded
gentle
a thing that others
seemed to
carry under their
tongues
infused in their
very
fingertips
pulsed from
the sweat
of a
good day
gentle
moments between
moments
that means
still
static
hush
nothing so novel
distinctive
and heady as
putting you
down
gently
from the snow globe
15 Julstatic soaring
over my own
body
again
i pluck your precious
thorns from my side
again
i line each one
on my window sill
unbind my hair
unlock the gates
of song from
my throat
the thorns they say
nothing
still in their
perfect v formation
there the sun presses
against glass
confused
that
anything so
dark
could
be called
my
darling
tie a string
15 Julas everything
became
golden
wild blackberries
worth the pain
of getting
close
eating
one
after another
after
another
perfectly ripe
visions
you could
hear
my
heart
swallow itself
then
leaving
teeth marks
in the
hollow
neck
of the moon
morning jade
15 Julred clover
in the middle of
your field
stretching up
every morning to
greet your
ghost
ankle
dewy
regretful
clover
in love with
another
sweet
drunk
honey bee
who
discovered
figs and honey
are
that damn
perfect
