Set to Grow

Tonight, we in a basket.

We sit, loveseat.

From the kitchen stretch of a table,

deflated pants sigh cotton.

Tonight we retreat into chair. Trees

turn their piney eyes.

Nests blush to beating hooves.

Apricot and mammal, we recline

in stone. We tagged. We branded.

Button down horse back. We winded.

We hidden. We shudder in reverse.

Our legs clap along the archway.

Lazy Friday breathes chocolate.

Shoulders pressed, we crush,

huddle under sap lumber.

The mosquito:

a little bit me, a little bit you.

Three poems in BlazeVOX 13

Very happy to have three poems (Agraciana, Paper Toss, and Toe Rings) included in the latest issue of BlazeVOX.

bundled

Away from the book, too

old or young for this. Pass it on.

Skeleton message flows

graphic. Secrets eye

trusted sources, tympanic

anaphylaxis. Walk airports

with mouthfuls of noise.

*

One cortex ricochets, it’s a racket.

This pamphlet: pay taxes

Pages: hot-leaded

Tap screen villain

valuable. Stone age

fiery dynamo—warring

tribes of skin and silicon. Go

to it, clay horse, cave

ash film. Spotted earth,

zap plant, subtraction.

*

Premonition: flagship

Code: Trip6. Rhythm

is in the red line. Finish,

strong and sacred, Logos.

niece

speaking from the womb,

riling the she-wolves,

arousing them with Prokofiev.  they stood

on their hinds, drew their swords

*

foxtrot candles, handwritten

report on mount vesuvius,  blushed

when beautifuk rolled on

the page. college-ruled

three-hole punch. start again.

the flower girl did not

move a leg, frozen zaffa. first among children

she corrects the grammar of grammarians

*

the rev. mcculloch read, “we are not

permitted to linger, even with

what is most intimate.” she

misspelled her name

on the marriage certificate 

happy

Pilots, too old

to fly, transport

walnuts. Proportion

matters—salted

butter, stone ground

flour, a plump

sound of unzip. A smile’s width,

a clipped finger nail

circles the drain. Minimal

moon dancing in

a shallow bowl, stirred so.

*

Aspen groves

groom. Citrus

pyramid insomnia.

The wife’s one

private dream, the jaunting key

delivers her dairy aisle.

*

Husband: snowy midriff

Chiffon:  fine, and open.