I was on edge I’ll say because
of too much sun why not and it
didn’t matter where we stopped for the night
I just didn’t want to go back
and trap myself. Again. You have to move
carefully when you find you’re a
head in a jar. But I’m so tired. My
words wade the short cold waves and end
where they began in a still mumbling mouth
forever filled with acrid liquids
wolfed by the woof and warp of unwashed
waters all the days of this half life
for half a dozen or so bubbles that
break with awful scents and few clear notes
Tag: sun
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and some days, Pentheus, like the
rest of us, is torn to souvenirs
by his mother and her maenads
as just a few words will poison
park and pond so you forgo the
many strings that tie you to the
rest and restless and still tug in
the struggle against the sun, and
no I can’t really see either but
a few more steps and we’ll rest for today
you see sometimes we have to go
on like this and suffer another prelude
one day molten gold or the certainty
of a chrysalis under a leaf
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early evening early in the death thinking about death all day the video game deaths I played the music death all the death TV shows the same even if they try to death it my back still sore but better death than the dog deaths her new toy
and no I never did get around to that I gave up on connection and went down paths they warned me about to make blurred photocopies of those same mistakes my hands stumbling fat then thin leaves fell and grew the early sun in winter faithfully rendered in Minecraft reddened the tips of things in a neighborhood or that or this heavy frenemy in my chest sometimes makes his strange will speak
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what hope in this pen and an ink
nearly invisible
earlier the morning sun on
the trees made me think of
large mammals and their humid scent
in the sun in the grass
the countable galaxies of
bright dew and now the chair
makes sarcastic music of my
musing but the night is
still and so wide without a moon
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what would it sound like
to walk out on the soundgulls chase
gulls for a bitthat sound
breathing
needlesso I hope for green
through the still black
door to see color to
burst into bloom into
color burst and burstwhat thoughts I would have liked
putting them on a shelf orbut what would it sound like
opening my mouth the waythe white heron hides its neck
am I too latedo I keep
taking notes on sheets of ice
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it should be more than cotton
candy though I lack
a recipe my hands have just
this tiny pen filled with
latency and the ladder is rottenhow many more nights
the sun bobs up and down
I look the other way that burning
you say it’s the weekend well why
not warp the mirror a little moreI can’t remember
why I entered this raceand I want to go to war with
each slender shadowmy feet must be cut from my shoes as soon
as the sun returns some color to those skulls
from under a rock hear me sing and walk on
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In the morning you can reach out and see on the breeze in the mind the damp stone tightening straps keep him in place the pain in his cell the confession conversion meaningless at this point or the life by the sea rough stone grey the children I pushed through and lined up in the earth and the cliffs so beautiful lonely one time one town on the frontier barely built I can still smell new cut wood that simple home sun creeping through seams in the wall another sunny place warm weather sweet breeze always fetching writing down his many thoughts the wine was good
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before this morning just the blank blue
black before the sun fades it back to
the usual but now just feet above
the broken basketball hoop great Jupiter
and greater Venus inches apart and
though I don’t know it now the next
few black mornings in dark blue
cool they will sport in that spot in a
slow silver dance that even without
my glasses warms my hazy blue head
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it’s difficult looking for words to force into little gems (jams?) & not look out the window and write something about this shade of blue sky just before spring
weeks of precious concentration later how to know if there’s anything or a tunnel that collapses with the slightest shake
you want to go back even as you put one foot forward and choose a different color sock hat excuse though it’s best to keep walking and say you started differently
in the end if it lets you step into the dark more easily what would it be like but never mind get back to digging or we’ll never get out
tomorrow is the word you’re looking for which means both hope and hopeless the black of space the restless sun
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the sun silently deifying crumbs on the table
(First published in Modern Haiku.)
other animals 