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.
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.
He couldn’t reach her
because it was too long
what came between them
She almost didn’t mind
the wait in between
because it was thrilling
When it got too dark
they counted on chaos
with its sweet delay
The heads are talking without
seeing or caring much
about wind direction
or how much pepper to add.
I have some secrets
that I wear openly
but no one seems to get
the codes or the patterns
like plaid like trios like spirals
bound to be plated with gravy
with sides of sparkly faraway
daydreams wearing corsets
loosened with teeth by nightfall
if the mind is willing
and the flesh bends the right way.
The moon says yes, please.
