1/21/16

he speaks like it's mundane
to misremember the color
your childhood home,
to forget which forked road
took you there

1/20/16

first the tremendous 

dreadful humming of bees -

then an odd rattle 

like a fist 

pounding on a space capsule

1/19/16

this ice cell morning,
a whistle from the east -
this oil spill nightfall,
my thoughts emerge in puffs
of steam, my teeth shake

1/18/16

she is not death, but knows death:

one hand reaching through your pit of fire,

the other fanned backward like a palm leaf,

green snakes ribboned

through her swamp forest hair

1/17/16

the grey pane of water
under the overcast expanse
and between
the city like a glass transom
cranked open, dripping with steam

1/16/16

fingertip of snow
pressed against the fence,
cement glinting with salt,
and the wet black seam
where they are sewn together

1/15/16

ring of fecund women
pouring their warm, thick love -
under my coat
my hollow body clangs
like the tongue of a bell