Bambi stands poised on the page, elegant,
beautiful, but I am skeptical of deer. Deer can kill
with their antlers—from the Old French antoillier,
a horn in front of the eyes. Is this deer some rogue unicorn?
The sky’s more an ocean than a street
as we slowly harden the first while swelling the second,
abrasive sky with billions of tiny full pockets
while the ocean’s clothes are unravelling, sinking
like silly promises
of love and always
in the vast and hungry
empty
burning night.
Lately I’ve thought about a dooryard
Bereft of lilacs, out of season,
The jailbreak of circus animals,
The slouch of some beast toward somewhere.
Strewn across
Desirous dreams
Are concentrations of lead
Each form of escape
Is more dire than the last
I’d hate to be shipped off to a land run by a tiny group with lots of money
and guns, where attending a movie, or school, or a concert
is a fear-ridden, anxious, ordeal.
Then she stood, her eyes watery and luminous, one hand on her stomach
and I stood with her, unsteady, my muscles remembering, my memory remembering,
Once in awhile all one needs is a pause, then a thank you.
You taught me the pleasure
of petty crime
of sneaking away
with a glass full of wine
Enter communion. Enter wounds. Enter chastisement. Enter what we need. Sweet blood of Jesus enter. Enter joy. Enter Paul. Enter power. Enter explanation. Enter people who are hanging upside down.
Everywhere is worship.
Everywhere is a side, a right in defense,
a child understanding the unhealed land, and
the blank faced stare of justified murdering—
the compliance, the bow of fear,
Europe is, as far as we can tell,
A very dirty place, you know.
You know what I mean?
the move from human to earthling
cheddar dump was a lightning spore
when the dreams come down
the shaking of the language to go
You said that I am fire to you
just when the candle went off.
You said that you burn when we make love,
that your body of water cannot
extinguish the fire that I light in you.
I'm not dead yet but I'm supposed to get
ready they say at Sunday School because
at any time He can come for me, that's
Death or sometimes they say God, which tells me
they're the same, Death and God I mean, for that
Having a written plan
in advance
to keep babies in cages
with no family
around or guards who speak
their Spanish language
Although saccades can occur in complete darkness,
they are often elicited when something attracts
attention and the observer directs the foveas
toward the stimulus. Are there any spirits entirely
separated from matter? Each of these creatures is a world
the heavy crowds...one million,
are but a moment, their voices
stilled by one person, and behind
her the person who holds
the reins of prison, silence
There’s kind of a beatbox thing going on.
He took up a book but could not read.
He threw down the book, seized her hand, and wept bitterly.
‘Tis bitter cold/And I am sick at heart.
No such thing as information
hardware when you go skinny-
dipping. All soft, no mix &
match, show some flesh or show
I would want to watch the world burn,
but it's mundane and common place now,
and so even that is boring. I would hide
this in a metaphor, but I would rather clean
the barrel of an obsolete revolver.
They’re worried about Trump
and Modi. Muslims in India being lynched
for keeping beef in their freezers
or being Muslims.
I learned your name under a crescent moon.
Your voice is the breeze on my remains.
I think you were holding the dreams
when we got cut apart and lost.
“…a red lantern flashed a signal…
We had never seen such a sign used before,”
the armed visitor alleged.
Mom’s firecrackers took light
with a rattle of gunfire;
and just like that the evidence burned,
no harm done, no fault, no foul,
How much unthinkable evil pushes suddenly in to the
heated rooms. To the rigid impotence of shoulders and neck
there is irritated angry mood in every motion, in this pretty
voiced bird, that can hide under a single green leaf
My wife serves a Texas Jesus,
drafted the kids and a cousin
to a common liar’s cause.
If there’s a fixation beyond
rolled steel fences and firearms
I haven’t heard it.
“I get it. I don’t like big oil companies
either. I just cash their checks! Sometimes
I think the sign out front the station is the only
stock report some people get. Shoot, maybe it is.”
and I don't tell anyone because then they would know
and the fear of it could've been worse
rising like an echo from someone I love
is more frightening than any hand over my mouth
Like a stone that slows
as it sinks to the bottom of a well.
Like a person who saw paradise from the outside
and never found a way back home.
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