One leaf clutches dirt with
vertices, its raised abdomen
blotched red, as if a blood
creation, holding on.
Archives for November 2017
O. Henry Don’t Leave Us
November 5, 2017 by 1 Comment
On Maggie
November 3, 2017 by Leave a Comment
Egg me on, magi.
I’m a man, see?
A golem on lease.
Slam me,
name me,
son me,
age me.
Am I loam? Glass?
A seasonal song?
Missile me gone.
I’m a lass, see?
As no one, I’ll gleam.
Mimosa Pudica
November 1, 2017 by Leave a Comment
plant apoplectic
in the river of time what I thought
sweet water and thread
lifting clear pink satellites
field risen, rippling
in tune the blue coast
if a drift face I hope you get
how to lead someone to water
there’s no other paper
that sleeps like me
dipping as if
to fit into bottles
in the dark heat rolling
thin sleeves of green
when touched the fold
I found sway not shy
if I close when touched
move move then drink
half-full, the waiting
evaporated spaces
guess attack or death-play
the sleep’s root in reflection
if the best example of holding
is a moon and a barrel
