“Questions?”
Why are you so far away?
What ails you?
Where have all our children gone?
Are there pewter tulips?
A joy from the past keeps shaded,
stays alive,
wrings jewels and nips from bent towels.
Weather may come to cast,
and yet this ailing is a missing you,
a supplanted grove,
a cool and warm desire
is what ails you,
a tinker box which rubs the dock
the green bottle of ale for you
because the forgotten is heartbroken
but the joy is safe.
“…”
He ate a can of tuna fish at lunch
in the shed where we laughed spilt sides
his mom was a drunk
she showed up in her bathrobe one day
pissed flames beside her car
oblivious of us
somehow maybe the cocky
might turn to sparrows
be free at last of us and all the chins
or maybe he stopped eating tuna fish
directly from the can
maybe he went down his own dark road
down on his lucky own tuned knees
his touch of certainty a stretch
his youth a pissed ant
his smile the friend of a shadow.
“Nobody Gets to be A Poet”
At the mill town
toffee by a tossed hand in stained glass
coffee by the midst of mornings
these are your purse’s strings
covered by the overalls of oil
to come on time at once at peace teatime
on my bread delivery
they say it was the river killed you
we lie in a bed of blue roses
in music you felt something natural
it was in the way you arched your back, broken strength is being afraid
your spiritual own home
baked in bread
with the insects of girlhood
because of something you said or hid.
“Roaming Light”
There is roaming light across the floor
to say goodbye when our gold buckles
to be bucked from horses in soft dirty
boot buckles, because of the treasures
we found in the attic: the primal scene
enacting the tailbone;
tadpoles preserved, side by side,
for centuries in a glass tube
these were the human-shaped shadows
you used to run away with
the bell in your teeth, even during floods
matchboxes must sail away,
tugging at tigers as you tumbled
pulling patches for poor people,
the poor, poor people, witness to youth
and tomcats bribe another bride
shaking, because whiskers glow
these movements
automatic as gestures
beside the hot reek of horse piss
we were always your only girlfriend.
“Miles Away”
The moment a snake strikes
to slap a snake striking gurgling oil
you are gone, miles away.
And to turn off this turnstile for high pitch ribbon, miles away, this scream rises.
And to be gone, mermaid speaking,
just miles away, mermaid humming.
We can’t heart you underwater which is licked why we call our song “Miles Away,” a mermaid’s bubble pressure,
which is insincere, in a sense,
and all bird beaks grow rotten in lye
from more
and a mermaid pleasure mumbling
which is why we delicately rest your head
on a sheet of glass, to be careful
with the sheen of mermaid fish legs
exist in carefully liquid bones
razor, to be formed and then on & on
for miles
away a dream at dawn
waving why.
“Wandering Around an Old House”
To believe in its miracles,
the forthright structure,
the beams of memory,
shrugged shoulders of light
in hateful corners,
crouching after midnight
lying under lie detectors smoking
with bullseyes and wasps
the ghosts kindly speak us,
their kisses hold no memories
so when we moved
the house left the earth,
unmoored, a spell spooling
bedeviled, betoken, bespoke:
it all happed yesterday
for whose fevers
we’re still leaning sharper icicles.
“Somewhere in the Sun of Sonnet Rays”
A lazy breath will clear
and breastbone
leave the deserted stone
beneath smooth waters
call us back
there’s checked coats in phone booths
and you are sheer and shimmering
and you are the gloved boots
the tousled hair
the midnight goblins riding for a final raid
for all the trendsetters are looting
and whatever we bake
crumbles in oven mitts.
“Inhabit This Body, So Long”
Maybe a brief breeze could pass us by
an island of mailboxes, unsent letters
and your lipstick, we laughed
in your driveway, smoking
and drinking an Irish car
was bombed
when we danced on your porch
to the Beatles
I met you in New Haven or New York
maybe in time
ask a twilight magician
ask an answer for a dance
brave floods did you warn us
worn wars inside of us
cast the shadow of a jacket’s buckle
blue lipstick
to sleep on a lakeside porch
until dawn, to cry by the paddle boats
until somebody who liked you
until somebody who was your friend.
“Why this enjoyment tastes so much”
You would stumble through life.
You would.
Through wooded happiness
after dance of firelight.
There are only so many photos
to go through.
This is the afternoon of your life,
a specimen,
hesitating to decide.
Couldn’t just one more kiss
be a promise anew,
if we truly were happier then,
pulling cherries from you?
I walked with you long ago,
icy forests with spirits in tow.
It isn’t making sense.
There aren’t enough rumors.
A swan dive with you,
a swan for you,
and roses on your pleated lap
through all that’s cold and flame beyond
can we go on beyond the back
can we all gone beyond the blue
and ask ourselves
to drunk anaconda
to swim with sounds of wedding bells
to be on land?
“Cotton Candy Carnations”
Departed roses and heroes
from another life,
some call it otherworldly
and they’d be right in panda mittens
we wear coat-closets, milk kittens,
throw-up in a mink coat,
your jewelry mixed
with punishment mittens
punched in a fresh jugular
spaced-out space coats, controls
pierced with the caught fish
when we blubber and jiggle
the sun is an oil
racing our hearts to a fatal giggle
for nips in the buds:
there’s always a harsher yesterday
tomorrow will finally blind us
you may drink the blood of me
of cotton candy
snakes pierce shields
always sometimes through the powder
and powers that be
in vested vests and suits,
these cards a devil dwelt
feverish and heartwarm
shivering of elf and goblin ears
all in a rosy row
on a shelf above the bedstead.
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