Thursday, February 17, 2011

After the Death Of

for five years
each Valentine’s he
was gifted roses
the scent of fields
where daisies march
between bovines
and their cud of dreams

he was chewed entwined
in sunbeams resting
on laneways and
concrete cavorting with
Icarus and clouds
the short walk to morning
coffee and work

he was preserved
friended and unfriended
a wave in an ocean
a point occluded by
sunset breaking onto
the shoreline of
old avatar in winter

forever bereft of spring

Saturday, February 12, 2011


Where are the
I remember and I am
where are you
snow falls and winter
continues do you
remember the twenty-seven
ways to write you
are a star point
and I am an arm
draped over the ocean
of snowflakes
the cold of a touch
that exceeds the onion
slowly unfolded until
I am and you are
autumn in spring
a harvested field
a lonely mendicant
longing for a lost home.

Saturday, February 05, 2011

I’m About to Turn Off the Lights, But

Tell me again how words matter
how matter evolves over time
parsed through your words about the matter

and how this argument is stretched
for a time over the fabric
of our conversations.

Evolution always matters and the signals
we emote body to tongue
to this day, to change, to hours

to old friend, old walking mate
old drinking partner of the best
which sinks into the worst —

tell me how we share the bread of life
yet remain uninspired enough
to only desire another sunset
another spent late afternoon road
voyeurs to the devolution
within another silent day.