bone-worn dog & hung head asked high kids holding lemons,
tangy hair in the air, zest & bitter tantalus–
went to dumpster-cat (blackberry feet)
sick of white gloves, guttural mews.
coarse throat, bumpy pink tongue trickled yesterday’s juices,
held the water, blue sky whirring, whirring– engines / exhaust!
icecream trucks! brahms overture, mary had a little lamb
escaped from jail with vanilla dripping down her hands–
pigeon following, little pecks, boots collected
sidewalk grime and ran, ran, ran!
ask the man skin dandruff collecting flies–
there’s no more room in this bone-white van
still raise you head high, tide bring ‘em to shore
hang you head on my leg say the moon help me beg!
(originally published in Eunoia Review, February 2016)
The daddy longlegs cantilevers from Styrofoam
to sidewalk. Beetles, red-handed, scurry from a brown banana peel,
and as my gloved hands rake the dregs of recent days to neatly seal
in a new black bag, I think of how much we lose
in a week, or in the span of a second, some wayward glance,
a hush in a waning tide … no moon, no sun, no, merely
the space between … wrinkles slink into our faces.
I would give you wings, but you have risen,
already, high into infertile sky. And in the morning,
without sunrise, I will swear
the wings were broken, were never there, or were crushed,
in some tiny state of insignificance.
(originally published in Syzygy Poetry Journal, Vol. 1, No. 2)
the not-even-mine salt-and-pepper pup
the longer i hang
the more chameleon my intentions
the smell of sweat from rain-pawed feet
i wave yesterday’s socks
like american flags
i say, speak english –
even though i do not understand
(originally published in White Stag – Volume II, Issue I)