May 2010
1 post
In the rushes, gildy-green, i find a nest: toppled, looted, broke, and follow bent reeds and dry-throated riverbed until i see fine wolfish creature, white needle-toothed and shy. i hold out my hand, steady, open, soft. And patient, too. Sun sinks and rises again the day grows blood blood red then gold then blessed blue before he comes to caress my salt-licked hand with sweet and snuffling tongue....
October 2009
1 post
September 2009
7 posts
Four blue i cast to me and trembling
when father knelt me down at altar-stone, at priestly-feet, and thrust my hand out to take two girlish hands. The priestly-man cupped our crowns in priestly-hands and said: “A marriage is as much a vow twixt family as twixt woman, man. And so, brother, do you vow to bear these sisters and keep their virtues pure until you can deliver them to husbands on some bright future day?”
No...
WatchAlone
Alone
Alone
At last the nanny-arm unfurled pneumatic hands to envelop half-body in a whole embrace. i opened i to see only shutters, only blades until she took my chin in metal palm and turned it, forcing i to see bright day that crept through window-square. And there, letting go of thin shoulders, thinner clothes, she, the nanny-face then showed me pictures: me. No. Wait. Freckle there...
August 2009
5 posts
Worms
The nanny-face has taught us “church.” And so when father tells us where he goes these white-faced winter days We lace our hands to pistols, wriggle fingers in palmy-walls like captive worms. Church. Gone. While We wait alone alone alone together.
We tell Ourselves this is just another bottle-bottom and sure enough, his breath burns hot and violet bright. But what to make of this new song? On...
In the apartment in the City where i was We, it...
We taste hands that might as well be Ours. We speak in tongues that only We can grok. In the apartment where all light through windows cast brick-red and down to dirty shag, We, watched by only mechanical-nanny i, play mirror games, raise hand to hand, close i to reflected closed i see.
In the apartment in the City where i was We, there is only this: popcorn plaster yellowed; night father crocked...