Tuesday, July 13, 2010

we built broad roofs,
wings upon wings
raising the rafters
higher, higher
avian homes, in our hearts
arose to shelter
dreams aside dreams.

(we drew the plans
in secret rooms
pens and trace
layer on layer.
lines unflawed
were hopes and hopes
to synthesize
an unbuilt hanger)

months and months
have passed along
since visions
of a nest had hatched,
now wings unfeathered
and rafters rusted
we have yet to call
the sky our home





Monday, July 5, 2010

i miss
the late night air
and the morning breeze
around cafe scents

i miss
the oaken leaves
and the red sunsets
behind the clouds, wisps.

i miss
the hum of cars
and the sound of your voice
over locusts' hiss

i miss
the cycle of the days
and the end of all this.
a man
is not
enough
instead
crawls back
into
an egg
each night
to hatch
each day
again the same.
his feet
a drill
into
a pore
the face
of which
will host
his growth
until
he flies away.

Sunday, July 4, 2010

i.

you and i,
we are two houses
on a ridge of our realities
founded on philosophies
we are brittle, and square
and it is known that wind opposes
all perpendicularity
but almost unnoticed
the nuances of the air


ii.

the sky spits on the ground
the hail rattles on the ground
the way the windows also rattle
when the sound of thunder invokes their fear
and so each pane
in the sun is an eye
but in the storm
is an ear.


iii.

lanterns flicker
dancing tongues
speak out into the night
people move about inside
songs are sung as light.
you and i,
we must construct
such a glass around ourselves
so we may too
dance about
unafraid of weather.

Sunday, June 20, 2010

i do know why,
but i do not know why
i dictate silent paragraphs
use sighs as exclamation points
and breathe in extra-deep.

something i have lost,
or not lost anything along
remains as black-stain letters
a cloud of key-stroked ink
too deep to speak with breath.

feathers belong to birds
and cursive words (permanent)
and to the air, floating free
and to my story, if only
described in silent breathing,
or something i have lost.

Monday, May 31, 2010

delamination

Saturday, April 10, 2010

my pen will not last, it will run out of ink, alone, before i can say