poetry

spiral staircase

Love in the Time of Vertigo

Without help now
I can maneuver myself

upright, then supine to correct
the wind spinning my brain

from myself. My face angled
and pillow propping my shoulders,

leaves

The Higher Things

Why not act indulgent and reckless for once?

An oarsman floats on a weightless scull.
Salt in the low marshes. Sunbathers smoke something strong.

one flower

MAY

There is a broad forgotten flower
in the ruins of our days, rising
immaculate from the frozen earth,
its purple heart waiting for a woman’s
name: Rose, Iris, Veronica,
Daphne.

Lo

Lo, the color of my mustache,
chestnut-shell with flecks of gold-leaf,
signaling to the world I take myself too
everythingly. Lo,

Ma

I’ve been keeping the quarter-full can of caffeine-free diet cola
Ma left in my refrigerator four weeks ago,
visiting from the chicken farm