8/31/16

the garden behind the church

has curled to a burnt husk

we thumb dropped lavender, 

astringent in 

the sunny lull of late morning

8/30/16

we laid this month flat

and wrote our family name

on every page

the old name

the new family

8/29/16

dark night
cut through
with the oil
of musk
and skunk

8/28/16

texan with

a bruisey apple heart

one arm on her man

the other 

not

8/27/16

i slid down the hill
to where the woods
bottomed out, sweet circle
of sunlight and ferns,
water-black shale

8/26/16

tomorrow

a grand heat, some

herculean good

but tonight

the soft snag of wool

8/25/16

our voices

ring

through

the 

empty house

8/24/16

a hand parting shadows

in idle bonelessness;

fingers spiral

backwards to 

kiss wrist

8/23/16

a shut gate

and his silent 

narrative

churn circles

in the katydid heat

8/22/16

dark-bottom
clouds
hung like
the wrong side
of a penny

8/21/16

teach your feet to push

at the cracked back of the earth,

bear your precious weight

rucksack laced  

to taut web of bone

8/20/16

summer will end
when it's ready

boys wrestle in the pool
like puppies, mouths open
as if to swallow the day

8/19/16

You'll know it

when you stop

writing about them,

meet them in dreams

like strangers

8/18/16

silver button moon

illuminates

my messy beasthood

nest of shed hair

and bruise

8/17/16

semi-lucid juxtapositions

the sooty howl
curling down the hallway

threadbare nags twitching
at the kiss of a fly

8/16/16

heat-stroke muscle

seizuring 

                  the long days

of summer

                    stoke fire

stoke rage

           

8/15/16

drinking wine
on the dark porch
i braid their voices
one up
one down

8/14/16

hunkered on

the seam between

sleep and fever,

hallucination

and dream

8/13/16

ten days heat
honing
the skin's burr

your thigh
a thick knife

8/12/16

our skin
glows with blood

our bodies
make
rain

8/11/16

my son,
the size of
the baby finger
on your
heavy paw

8/10/16

a bullet
sinking
in the glass
you press
to your lips

8/9/16

lie in
the coffin
of
another
cicada
night

8/8/16

he wraps an arm,
thin as a rabbit's bone,
over my neck

and snares me
in his sleep

8/3/16

streetlights ghost
the lip
of the bridge

glowing sentry
guide me home

8/2/16

listening to 

unseen cars

slow, 

then push a soft rattle 

around the corner

8/1/16

when the heat hits
i can shake it

and when
the light fails
we can fake it