February 2016

sticky heat
my breath stumbles too
in its tracks

cicada sounds oblivious to where they lead

in this light
where we once were
screen-burn
winter hush
a wanderer
in stone stillness
the big bang
defines my limits –
night deepens

in now our eyes entrance one the other's

on what premises 
does my vision pass away?
this hell-hole of words

my eye skims a river of stars

summer fling
a mosquito conjoins
the lovers

made to order the life before

wordless night –
an ichthyostega
crawls ashore
Shrove Tuesday –
the pantry stripped bare
for emptiness
ancient tree –
will this ash soften
my forehead?
pre-dawn light
a hum of cicadas
quickens it
apprentice rule –
is passionate intensity
to take precedence?

measuring manhood by election

candidates pose with their election policies

another dick erects his tower

late summer rain –
perhaps I should hold on
to merely being
dry spell
an earth worm turns
for the ants

hear a mirror held up to better nature

the hidden depth
of the best of us
in broken light
out of place –
watching fruit rot
by napalm light

hear them in stone utter silence

bloated with a fly on afterthoughts

mine
is the compost
of my words
leap day . . .
the sun warms to
Miss February
GDP –
most of the surplus
is bullshit
post mortem
a sanctuary lamp
on the time before
 
beyond this gap
 
I am lost also
amid words
wasted
maggots devour
our reverie
at first 
there seemed to be
a never more
 
stooped low
to retrace the words 
only I see
 

my breath still at the end of it all

greenness breaks new ground

gentle breeze –
a rustle of being
no more