our margined souls carve
the darkness
without which the world would
secretly falter
when the sun becomes
a face will we fold ourselves
into wings and fly
over anonymous seas
?
Category: Uncategorized
martian shoes
that fall from the sky born of one gravity
and thrust into another simultaneously both
dense and light a confusion of mass gifted
by people we’ll never meet whose spirits
are plaited in jackknife rows across
blood-red soil or drifting in thinnest
atmosphere these selfless aliens beyond
terrestrial concept who found purpose in
darkness who reached for black
blossoms in the basins of dried canals and
unearthed the miracle of shoes who could
have kept the shoes but chose to give
them away
image/angel
lydia’s face a purple kite
above lakeside olive
groves by the lake
of the dead open
to eclipse
waiting on her sons wears their absence as
a necklace
laugh at what
what to laugh to what
to laugh
what laugh what is there to laugh
about
back at home
she’ll wind a clock
from the judgment
realm tick away
her pain in step
with footfalls
under the
floorboards
last in series
drink the seaside road, drink the dusk
and follow chain lightning.
or instinctive memory
of flare, of careless sighting. for sun.
for afternoon’s low-slung fog
as our humid breath puddles the road.
we walk tangled with worry
and tied in loose knots.
under a drowning moon struggle
to bind the books of childhood.
the last pages are turned. the last umber words.
with fashionable howls they make us
forget the concept of names,
the naming of objects requiring a name,
the objects themselves.
we forget the sea still damping our
shoes, forget the soft curve of a baby’s
wide eyes. forget churches melting under
the sand. their salt-stained walls. their
soft particles of tide.