"To the Brim" and "The Wind"

To the Brim

& every metal detector

in the front of every county building

holding a grief larger than you & me

& what you do

when owl stands

at the ledge

of yer breath...

eyeing the heart—

eucalyptus will provide

no witness tonight

except the swaying

its answers

in wind

The Wind

there isn't enough room in this room

for anymore theories—

praying hands

deploy hidden marigolds in the air

for the finches singing

the death of plastic

outside my skull

the music of centuries—

every breath is a wind instrument

the truth of a dancefloor

is leaving yer body

to the music

a kiss planted on the shores of a solitary navel

means more to me than the wrath of the bees

or the secret worlds of hummingbirds

a kiss planted on the shores of a solitary navel

means more to me than all the nights of despair

as the wind feasts its eyes on my heart in my hands