~*~
What We Have Grown
Enough with the dandelions.
We cannot postpone. Even dressed
we can see the parts
left unsewn. Leave her
shirt unstressed. Make the men
unimpressed.What is the meaning
of West. Iron
her breasts with a grinding
stone. Boil off all
that wanting.~*~
Against a Field
I retype for rhythm. This is the thing
served after all the plates
have been removed.I'm cloistered up with this whipping
cream in Manhattan, but
there is a bridge nearby.The abortion was a narrative
strategy. No one should be
blamed.And now I'm dreaming, awake,
of Emily Davison riding
a palomino— triumphant.Gray hair against a field
of snow.~*~
This May Be the End of the World
The deaf man's hands
drip ink in
the air. He stares at
everyone's aphasia.It's impossible to hear
the sound inside
his shell.~*~