DAY POEM



I miss the ladders of shaped like

consonants or solid and

leaning on small reddish

fruits of hawthorn


just one line


vowels of breaking

gnarled like

gnarling         

not even a little window postcard



only an internet lurker

covered in broken glass

in unheated hollows



edging into maybe I prefer

the blackness of sleep

if I could find it



staggering sun

what do you know

of surface

I thought time

could do better

than random

look

to the shadows

they know the

significance of

physical presence



maybe

there was

just a brush of skin in the dark that made life

unbearable



shadow of the pencil

on the desk below

handless hanging

off the book



I am completely blank now



the quiver of winter

blossoms for the un-snowing

DAY POEM



white bird into fire


say it again


slowly         on the


ceiling    so differently


window revealing


flowers and bareness   


charley horse    errata     white


slips flying into fuchsia


sustaining lemons


of hyperbolic influence

 
DAY POEM



of turning     morning        folding         narrow light       

blue bright pink and flood and bird and not         keep-

ing    being    whispers in the        tide          and house   

flowers        counting    in the rain     to get         a

city of            the        in     the rain again

rain again rain again         a not        sky        

a whether    it is there     or    tangled in

pale time     for nothing       

                                                    already