Singing you who have lost it
tell me where you will find it
Inside his chest
the chirp of birds
inside his breath
needles of air
_
Singing you who have lost it
tell me where you will find it
Inside his chest
the chirp of birds
inside his breath
needles of air
_
delight wheels like prayer
flinging night like doubt
on the parapet of dawn
our details are all spent
She knows that
the child and his friend
--another child--
read her words.
She hides small
messages
of hope
and love
Hardy as pebbles
as natural
shaking like leafy hands
on summer trees.
_
Water alive with the shuffle of crabs
my body rolled over by the waves
then cleaned to sea change
grotesque as rags,
familiar as reeds
coral laced up by eels
But brilliant showers
of triumph
of clarinet
Of abruptness--
steps missed in the dark.
Then the piano bares its teeth.
_
Trees suffer
this year’s work
to fall to the ground
leaves curl and cup
like beggar palms
Even their fruit
rotates rotten
but the seed inside
clear, the future.
But really
you know
even balloons,
birth-day
party streamers
sometimes die
with the slow
delicate agony
of flowers
that the child is adopted.
Snows translucent as sleep.
Her secret about wanting to die
swims in her breath
a sly brutal eel,
reclines in her
motherhood
while
all she does
in the daytime
is wait for night.
Her bewildered pleasure
in the alchemy of these children
in these precise children
such inaccurate precis of her
of the signs of competence
she generates, grows
_
Lights are
ecstatic explosions
lights
turn on with soft blinks
And rain so hard
it makes muddy
flesh wounds
in the earth
And us,
telling stories
impassionate as
furniture listings
on Craigslist.
Turning,
running
gone.
_
Our class went to Metropolitan University for a talk with Sunny Singh today. I had the same soft argument with Sunny as I've previously...