at the organic cafe unsure of your unwrinkled hands scraggly long hair scraping fine features the constellations of pimples your rough shirt dark stained apron standing tall and to the side you grant a glance and goddess you were all beauty pink cherry trees burst and burst my eyes wide as fried eggs
Tag Archives: eyes
I lift the pen but why my eyes slide down this poison face
but the sound of a bird I can’t
the glow of the sun
sinking what
else can I say
I waited too long and they’re already cleaning up so I grab some trash and throw it away they tell me to keep moving
when I slept in the forest those long years between research grants
salad days between immunity and editing
people always said I gave up too easily and mostly through song for some reason but that’s really none of my business you see I’m only paid to write these instruction manuals
leafing at monster cello sorry
it’s these new plant-based teeth
and the weight of this uniform from lack of sasquatch in the spring
did you see it that time like a flash of silver at the corner of your eye but never mind it was nice to see you again and we really should get together and no that’s OK I have utensils at home
splinter
moving toward what with blurry eyes an empty hand lies to the whole body nightly nodding I thought I could escape the flies
of course he can tell. The stitching as the eyes of dragonflies
splinter
my eyes erased with no lack of formality to excuse the fragility of those hands that are now obviously flippers
splinter
those early days under the sea when we went from five eyes to three to just the pair and slowly painfully learned to breathe the poison air
when I close my eyes swallow a wide sea
splinter
and when driving with your eyes closed at least metaphorically the thinning hair of his great plan cropped by the latest expanding correction
leaves fall
I close my eyes to hear
the crow
insomnia
the pure white
of David’s eyes
haiku and other animals 