TWINS
turmoil embraces her
like a needy lover.
she burns impermanence
like blackberry kush.
there is rhythm
in her confusion.
she's soft
like a sparrow’s beak.
longing nips at him
like a rabid bird.
touch, receive,
live so as not to die.
there’s madness
in his precision.
he’s hard
like algebra.
they are feral, lupine,
call up spirits just to dance.
Capulet and Montague
in a Dallas motorcade.
they inherit the meek,
sell trinkets at the bleeding shrine.
they crave the warm aroma
of honey sweet carnage.
==================
IF YOU ARE A POET
“if you are a poet
you will see clearly
there is a cloud floating
in this sheet of paper.”
- Thich Nhat Hanh
every guitar has a story -
finger love, a mad escape,
a midwit dilettante -
a blue river of dried ink
and thin blood.
you are a cloud.
no fluffy paper one,
but lightning and deluge.
any poet can see.
cloud is a cold damp fire.
you know what the ovate knows;
water in air becomes water in earth.
you found a river underground.
you are paper,
rough, sinewed, crafted
to accept the thin blue lines,
the sudden squall of words.
cold steel hums over
burnished hollow wood.
your lines divine
a universe of frequencies.
if you are a poet
you will see clearly
there is a forest
growing in this guitar.
=================
THE GEOGRAPHY OF ENCLOSED SPACES
Fully formed. She fell. Direct.
From the head. Of her personal. Zeus.
She kept. Falling.
From the head. Of Zeus.
You can’t see. The floor.
But it is. There.
She fell. Through time.
Through space.
Attracting small. Orbiters.
Until the floor. Appeared.
Lucky. She had wings.
Sadly. She had not.
Learned. To use them.
Before. She jumped.