hay fever or cold through a tick tocking
in the sinus of old snake handlers,
mechanical marionettes like sparrows
barging into clean plane glass,
the marriage of teeth and eye,
then we can count on no more
eyeteeth battles over second hand sweaters,
wound tight like forearms muscles
reaching for hortatory strawberrys,
that is exactly how she sits there,
reading.
Grinding it all up in her gears and spitting out
the pits of suffering and ugly english,
setting the barrels to ring out
in alarm against the spread,
of said,
seeds of sorrow.

short hair and lip ring
little death in the afternoon
and poems for dinner

trying making chlorophyll in there!
—–

torn finger to torn foot
short stories written in blood
again and again

In Series
—–
burning plastic and cutting craiglist adds
tickle the dead skin, grown white and flaking off
finger tips.

cell phone melts, three pounds heavier from new numbers
and dinner dates over stale lines
and too much garlic.

shoulders wobble, balanced on the pages of a bible
their spine cracked and smudge marks
from the butts of prison cigarettes
and butterfly kisses.

Achilles paints another turtle pink and blue,
they line up full of spite and
dream of arrows with ankles
bronzed and bountiful.

spider egg breakfast
and a country for old men.

He sits there remembering
auburn hair inexplicably stuck to the bed sheets after days and days
of washing on the permanent press cycle,
scabs crawling across shoulders to the tune of kitten kisses,
she used to laugh ferociously
and her lips didnt touch when she reads poems,
blue potatoes cooking in a cast iron skillet
and a bathrobe turned burka.

like little broom sticks on ice,
she won her bicycle in a curling contest,
all cardboard christmas style,
10 easy steps, instructions for constructions but no tools,
all those parts in individually labeled boxes,
so he wont forget how much and in what order,
he loves those things,
like eggs on the side walk,
or cotton candy aftershave,
egyptian rain?

now rocking chairs that bite and snatch,
clowns that catch,
and decibel turn doorbell or drum beat,
the hoof fall of miles and mile of running over road,
the same trail seen every time,
so we will not forget, so we will remember,
that breakfast, of spider eggs and sausage
and a sweat smoked bed.
—-
some things need editing, and some other things cry out for it.

grey beady eyes,
elfin knees, to sharp by far!

flowers unwiltingly offend,
Where were you drinking last night?
watching NPR and sobbing to the sound of inoffensive jazz.
Sing along with the goat herders,
watch the teeth.

Danger fish walks into a bar,
metal on scale and slime,
a fillet knife of distance between dinner and a life of promises,
which drip drip drip down a needle of white fenced dreams,
simmered in the oil of long breezy nights, out door dogs and matching furniture.
Danger fish sips another illicitly old scotch tumbler full of Larry,
watches finger tips streak the glass from the outside,
like snowflakes in reverse and reminds me
of that one time, with some girl and hazelnut.

creeping on snake paws,
stained glass dancers from stick figurines,
another night is chewed up with broken molars,
shards of glass stuck between teeth,
finger tips and fire side chats with no remainder for evening meals,
blank eyes and the mirror of fine dark hair curled between knuckles,
falling asleep on a teak belly button,
illicit rice again tonight.

Waffles and Egg Sandwiches,
bacon tipped afternoons sipping espresso from a paper cup,
shaking fingers tripping over torn skin, spilling broken ink
on top of cheap paper and lust.

Mind the gap.