"Potential: 02:06:2018," "Reassign Words," and "Drown"

Potential: 02:06:2018

You bring the jar of flies
dipped in honey,
the wings cut off
and heads eyeless.

You bury it in the yard,
a time capsule
of your misdeeds
and potential.

One day you will seek your
fifteen or so
minutes of fame
or infamy.

If it is too late, I
pray for the world
you don’t reach your
full potential.

Reassign Words

The clocks are flowers
and fire is a balloon.
The morning is evening
and cows are kittens.

I reassign words.
I rename the things I see.

I shuffle the deck
and the world lays flat.
The bluer the sky the darker
astronomy becomes.

The thin branch is a wand
that stretches the mouth.
It makes the stiff corpse 
dance and colors the stars.

Without imagination 
the basilica is a shed.
The mad man rules and
the telephone is a poison pill.

The dog’s bite is a kiss
and the dog is a swan.
I climb and I go under
to the astral symmetry.

Memory fades and fruit
is a yo-yo and my flesh is

a seed that refuses to grow.

Drown

I try to find my center.
I am in orbit, out of
sorts, in a cloudless sky with
no parachute. On fire, sun

scorched and dealt a scolding for
being in and out of love.
I am all out of it. I
hear your voice inside my head.
I want the sea to catch me.
I want the sea to cleanse me
of all these desires, to
drown me and to revive me.