light blue dark blue sky peppered stars
the dog lingers sniffs a neighbor’s
pumpkin and music from somewhere
far or near I once loved the feel
of night on my body wanders
under what little light comes through
though I still haven’t found it
XXXXXXX, whose job curses us. In sister cities of emerging-market stars,
(First published in Under the Basho.)
to be as many bodies
as there are
verbs in the stars
but the silence was once my home dear stars
little storms in my jawbone
squirrels in my fingers
on which the secret fall
willows and other
the fairy tale home
a trail of stars
to shelter fresh
organs made of glass
who needs all this change for the
better bury me in styrofoam
the song crickets compose ever new night blue stars
With the light fading, you need to know how shallow it is.
Some limbs grow back if cut and stars paint the black with exuberant death but here it’s squirrels eating pizza.
The wet grass between your toes may produce a giggle, but water up to your knees?
The trick is to keep biting the rope as they pull you from the volcano, rather than laugh, which will be your first impulse.
my uncle from the stars of winter
wriggling away under the stars leaving a trail that grows regret farther down sticky heat where tricky verbs slip on the ache’s verdant oasis and drowning is back on the table
at night it scratches out stars unbandaged gone
in the north a beetle whose shell reflects a break with our stars