Haul

I am a lens convex, sheepish
And waning, unable to magnify
A fucking thing
This is the daily norm
To call this I testify
Calling across five story skies
And lopping off shade
She has jittery knees
And blue teeth
And eyes that close when horizontal

I’m not intentionally perverse
My surroundings have
Cultivated a certain lack
Of agreeability, if
In your hand-blown wisdom
Such a tenet could exist
Boiling in inferiority
And doing things that are real
But I rub lids that are aging
In a formative state even so

After work, I leave the city
Behind me in the dark
With pistons firing, guzzling gas
A wind of velocity
Noisily surrounding me
In my husk, I screech
Tunnel-bound, in the absence
Of light, disturbingly attached
To articulation- this in stereo
And also yours

I spike my tea
At the crest most supreme
And am no longer unaided.

7 April 2009

Nectar From Tundra

Intuition stands loving and correct
And so it begins anew-

Moisture crackles my rusting hinges
Never have I dealt with such an induction
For each gram I wish a remedy.
In the midst of industrial velvet
Your dilated heart, a question to mortality
Striving to cradle brow in supple palm
Eyes, pores, teeth bulging
Heart evaporating, accelerating
Rising, wooden heel stomping toe
Through the dense, pasty fog.

This, being a battle of futility
Serves no master but Time
Bracelets rattle as we swing- limp.
Driven by reassurance, I muscle through
Achieving dedication by belief in optimism
Crucified on a bed of pine needles so long
My once-numb heart feels every stroking stab
Your hands sculpt and fall away
Spidery fingertips glancing golden
Feathers loft to safer places-

Heights protected by faith and sleet.
Heartless.