I fear the answer is deep inside
a finger-string game
and that we’ve been bamboozled
by misdirection
of naughty birds
who show us rings and found words
so we’re carried away
into a beautiful and deadly chaos.
I think we forgot who we are.
If a tree falls…
Would you still hear me
in the quiet woods of night
when it seems empty on top
but there’s scurrying beneath?
I like to sing about green things
like a spiraling embrace in fog.
When it gets very cold,
I imagine being suspended
like a frog in an icy pond,
longing to leap and love
in a welcoming sun.
But today, the woods are empty
and winter is upon us
(can you hear me?).
Skyscrapers and a bovine shimmy
It’s hard to tell when sadness is allowed
when buildings impede sunshine
on railroad tracks below
but travelers are just happy to be moving.
It reminds me of searching for lyrics
on a cassette insert and finding
I rather liked my mistakes better.
We danced to many mistakes
to the tune of our frantic hearts.
He had a beautiful analogy about dancing
with me being like shuffling with cattle.
Moo, I say, smiling and wiggling.
Half removed, half-heartedly
poking through underbrush of the day,
wondering if the best has passed
with barely a mention
and why can’t we turn around
when the way seems blocked.
It hurts like sweat on a jagged wound
when you don’t know if healing will come.
It’s all part of the same story
and I’ve dog-eared some passages
but can’t recall where I’ve left the book.
Eluardian
I thought Stromboli was done exploding,
like hidden jars over the Pelice
but there were a few lights left…
Oh! They were stars looking like
pinpricks in a filthy sheet!
How lewd and lovely.
I couldn’t quite see the man
strumming the sawtooth-hammerhead
shark, but I would know the sound
of drowning on land anywhere.
It goes well with butter.
His face only bends a little each way
but it’s like the universe was born
in one of his happy crinkles.
My gold has turned silver
though there are times I wish it hadn’t.
We believe in a vague destiny-
part petals, potatoes, and prayer –
with heavy hearts and light promises
and though we try to turn fractals
into something complicated, a fern
will speak up and remind us to shut up.
