Archive | March, 2018

“Moonlight Spoils Vermont”

19 Mar

“Moonlight Spoils Vermont”

There was something clean about the way you speared me,

something sacred of the blood

filtering through my gills

while my gull filled with hair pie meat

and wriggling newts

diseased dream teeth

scattering me away over crowns,

horizons, bleached princess terror tiaras

deadly vipers, scream kisses

I don’t believe in you

is contagious

as spilling milk, ghost sheets,

treacherous highways, wooded phantoms

dialing with too many gold rings,

lipstick on costume lapels,

cucumbers sliced to their blood gurgling,

glory through the future you

our future too, waving the grasslands

the palm sucking last right meal morsels

the dorsal fin

daffodils call your name

somewhere in the past

was all scattered spiders of a dream

and it wasn’t even a eulogy.


“I Wish You to Celebrate Too”

16 Mar

“I Wish You To Celebrate Too”

Bend every paycheck until it breaks,

the sound it’s time to celebrate

enveloped, a man in a corner

snakes, lips on the wall,

scars in the sky

the cat’s of footsteps in the house

the size: a mountain lion,

my love for you in all time

ride a fly horse through the window frame

the ceiling-stink of another hallway

down the back streets of your namesake

tethered to another brain

of mildewed sea captains

and hopeful yellow galoshes

and hats to turn a bright star mint

soft slippers through dreams

read between the linen

dark poachers explode pouches

explorers committed to the cave

roof footsteps

the splendid cut of meat.

“That’s the Thing About Us”

9 Mar

“That’s the Thing About Us”

The I’m-sorry-s could cut a thin strip

a pirate’s cutlass, caught shaving

on the plank

you anymore:

that’s the thing about us.

That’s the thing about us:

when love gloves in phantoms

rainy fountains under green night suns

thunderstorm birthdays

clues rot beneath drawbridges

a mystery arrives, bitten

flesh removed to the bone

but we’re having a pillow party

chained ear to ear:

that’s the thing about us.

When the wind whistles

through the streets

and excites the flagpoles

of our seaside town

my uncle beneath the meat wagon

your butterflies

to exercise your thighs,

yet we’re still cheerful ghosts

even when motorcycles screech to halts

and halter-tops breech

electric fog perimeters

green dots on a video game grid

holding hands through a thousand years

of inhaled, bone-chipped stardust:

that’s the thing about us.

Thin azaleas walk by

a psycho train providing blue milk

on a vast desert,

sharing our knife wounds

struggling to trust:

that’s the thing about us.

“Tiger Liars”

5 Mar

“Tiger Liars”

Forever this stamp

the folds of your heartthrob

once upon a time

this desert was you

watching the iron ball

throb in a silk waterfall

through miserable seas

I’ve travelled in hollowed-out ogres

boats for wooden oceans

deer eyes, shielding the ferns

and all these sadness raindrops,

a windowsill with a dusty horse

neighing and sputtering

and traveling light:

only a cane and a suitcase,

only a hat and a green dove

for the parrots to fall in love with

calling me ever again

to brush my hair away

until wigs and manikins should stare

and ball bettings slide

to the roof of your ice pop.

“Jackal Stripes”

2 Mar

“Jackal Stripes”

This punishing hand, to know you

to know about your birthdays

your romantic candles

the ships that lead us

to spy islands, clean jackals

lifts from your suitcase the cold gold

clothes, on ships adrift

then circling the chipped waves

blinding portraits, a myth

of purple-clouded

heinous sea monsters,

those spooky celebrations

where you run into your younger self

and bow for all his warmth and calm

he could lend you.