If I’m honest I would like to see her
suffer. I won’t try to justify why
but if you had met her but never mind.
The imp inside these rust-colored caverns
whispers to the red river and dark clouds
creep behind the lens that pictures red more
red more and more laughs laughs that echo
smaller and smaller in a bare room
sweet voices in a mist-filled wood like a memory of the moon just a few drops of blood from your yearly broken back and you can play until fat with all the things this difficult crossword puzzle doesn’t attract me now that some grey has snuck in so why not stay I lost my train of thought again but with the mental gps installed it was no problem to rejoin and then pick from one of the available choices and at last enter new star city
I.
His clothes so out of fashion you wonder
if the gentle breeze from the willow will
shatter him into an ant hill of teeth
and trinkets you can sell at the market
II.
Your fabled jewel that could
end the conflict but when
you tell the story drops
of blood fall from your hand
III.
Tended with a heat gentle as
breath until the crow bubbles up
soon you will understand her voice
as though you too were from the moon
as you donate blood in Connecticut
a small soft yacht to squeeze
the pen twice as old as me smells of blood
stochastic erasures to provoke the blood in deep winter
for which the system of blood tunnels valves and such was built though it does get loud on a summer evening after a few
after meeting with the oracle a new flavor in the blood
wind beats the leaves I trust the long journey of blood
other animals 