All three of my hearts
lie across the ocean
the shade offers little
protection
to anything
but my skin
How do you keep the paper clean
it bleeds right through
your shadow is Sharpie
on the skin under
the eye
I always thought it was
my lack of sleep (I was wrong)
When you wish to break your arm
and stare at it in new ways
you pick up the cello anyways
wrist intact, the mind
disagrees
play on.
Storm chasers pray for
earthly violence
what childhood do they remember?
we need tornados
to get better
flying houses are like honey
on red tonsils
They say the night is the darkest
before dawn
is that what makes me want
to break my arm?
sweet light tastes like
too much syrup on a pancake
we fear the ends of tunnels
more than middles
Tears are shed for floods
droughts are boring, change the channel
should we pray for rain
or do a dance
wash the house away
four to a table
Can we fit into the bathtub
will the rowing make us clean?
can you justify destruction
if it means
you will be free?
wail for a night, day’s light
is harsher.
Summer always came with
sickness
power is a tricky business
cheddar jam is rich and easy
chew it up
before the picking
pull your sleeves down
Some things take long to burn
some plastics shrivel in one clap
some people take good time to snap
(the soul is dense)
it smolders like a green sapling
full of hope
it smokes, on and on
death of body
death of spirit
which one do you put into the freezer
for later
which one would you write into
a to-do list
don’t be daft now
paint the dark eyes light now
don’t be late
(it’s too late)
Only some people know
why you break your
fresh, thick wrist
the clock ticks on the stage
do not speak to me in words
— only music
do not pray for summer rain
— bring the flood
(maybe then a tear will fall)
August always was a bloody
harvest
The sun boiled for too long
the pot ran over
she forgot the wooden spoon
she forgot the fire blazing
she forgot it was a heat
can melt
the living.
Some people take too long to burn
some people shrivel in one clap
some people take good time to snap
the soul is dense
it’s full of hope (you see?)
it goes on smoking
on
and on.