Flower sweet
Flower whole Flower bleached On collar bone. Petals fold Towards the marrow. Stamens pulse Shoulder's sparrow. Exhumation. Spring is here. Jubilation. Nonna, dear. Floury apron, Palm of hand, Palm of heart Reaching, reaching Through the dark, Toward my heart, Toward this corm, Buried deep To keep me warm 3/05/19
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Still and all,
Peter Paul, Who would gaul To wander backwards, Risk a fall. Trusting nature, Open eyes, Fear no danger. Look how strangers' Steps have carried Moments, buried In the soil. Seeker’s oil Lies ahead. So don’t play dead. Focus toward The arc’s horizon, With hope held hands And no demands But lucky charms. Open brave your arms. The morning target, For those alike To gather, Soap and lather. Clean the layers. Bitterness does no favors, Only locks the door. Like a lion, Roar! And sound the rabble. Even thoughtless babble Will shake the grit. Relieve yourself of it. 4/23/22 Warm fog,
Throat and lungs. Bandaged gauze, Whisper tongues. Veils white Cashew skin. Fossil eyes Lit within. Moistened tresses, Bated breath, Cotton dresses, Scared to death. Aching rapture Darkened tomb Moment capture Pray the womb Recoil, Release. Roll the stone. The Golden Fleece Heading home. Light of morning Blinding eye Warming welcome Say goodbye Leave us wondering Faithful cope Lost and loving Ray of hope Palms together Arms reach far Psalms forever Wherever You Are 3/22/19 Incense steep
Holy oils Ochre pews Hallowed soil Odious fans Cackle and prod Innocent bastard Lamb of God Salts sting Vinegar tears Consecration Through the years Sweating secrets Hopes and fears Palm Sunday Waves and fans Shakes the hands Of cotton veils Coat and tails Ribbons, cufflinks Thorns and nails 3/4/89 Grey light
Unfurls Venetian blinded. “Viene, viene la mattina” Limbs rattle, shake, Grind and snake. Muscle ache Give, then take. Lids flicker Thoughts, thicker, Pasty recollections, Dreamy reflections. Images, reduced to memory Sharpen focus. Hocus pocus. Frame after frame. Still, This boiling cinema Reels Between my eyes. 2/11/89 On house windows
Rosemary spindles. Long fingers adorned, Blossomed and thorned. Combing my arbor. Tending her larder, A suspended casket, A weed woven basket. Old nanny take care. The dew drops delicious. The sun warms you there. It’s rays are nutritious. The streets bring a roar. It’s children in chorus. They hunger and havoc. Their sores wet and porous. Embrace them with poultice. Endure their lost suckling. For children run off And leave your knees buckling. Beneath you a cadre Of daffodils jealous, Catching your tears As they wipe Down the trellis. 3/23/89 Tissues,
Talcum, Dripping pablum Soiled carpet Mothers’ milk Reluctant nostrils Tenuous pockets Lips parted Unexpected exhumation. Misdirected fluids Lube the lobe of tongue. Gurgled shower Budding flower Lamby Limbs Loll and sway. April day, Warm and breezy Blonde, fine hair Through and through. Combed and rattled. Tattled By its’ tail. 4/9/89 Charred hyena
Stalks the corridor Shoulders till Brick and mortar Fossil eyes Carbon shadow Smoldered form Mad as hatter Jaw ajar Uncanny grin Lacquered reflection Resurrection Headless host Suffering limbs Unclear to most For me a ghost Ashtray extraction Walkabout I’ll take care I’ll snuff you out 10/18/88 Ideal happy Yet forgotten When occupied with stupor, Drunken eyelids Perch and grouper Heavy Upon my amalgamation Of soul Endurance Through these hours, I guess alone. Though thousand heads May lay the same. Night, Night Sweet Prince Mundane. Tidy, your gown Unequivocal, your mane. Wish for me I’ll do the same 10/12/88 Crocus, crocus
Blue and white. Anguish steals my breath tonight. Woolen blanket, soft in hue Envelops this discarded view, Serene and drunk On footsteps Of thought and thinking. City lights blinking. Enchanted rabble drinking. Off with their heads, Send them all to bed. Not another word said About who we aren’t Or who we are. Wish upon a troubled star And clear the air. Rub the scar. Tomorrow’s not So very far. 10/4/88 They
left on trains. Now Air glows amber over Rusting artifacts of the civil, Silent on the ground. Orange and pale blue Light weakens behind Sooted buildings and stacks Punching a bruised, bubbled sky, Doubled over. Fires, Peeling off the shoulder Of the hill, now hiss, crack and jeer This town. Etched in graphite. 9/20/88 Sit and beam
From mocking chair. Plow your brow. Sow your hair. Reap these thoughts That scatter where Fields, once fertile, Now lay bare. 9/15/88 Crawl
To your wraiths of darkened laughter. Night, three hours old, Sucks on newborn fluids and Calls to an open window. Do Not Violate The violent arm that snatches you From your cradle, Only to be new born. Wonder why There are no streetlights, And smiles gleam imperceptibly With songs of lengthy alibi. I haven’t thought of this fear Or without, since I don’t know when Or sometimes why. 9/13/88 |
AuthorMo Zine |