Is it Dreamier Where You Are?
I walk among the hidden vestibules
On a perfectly flawed mission of getting older.
Soft white words are emblazoned on the sky.
To guide me? No, the thrashing of a dispirited
Angel, a trail of stones strangled
In the grassy wind. My gradecard.
Salutes the falsehood of this planet.
My errors are silver in the twilight.
I truly intended to unravel the stories
That children have carved on soap,
Penumbra of ancestries properly wired,
While someone sings on a lawn chair
Directions for my departure:
Jump through this door,
Our collective sadness is buzzing with opportunity,
Ten thousand bees lighting on ice.
A Rumpled Fortune to Live and Die By
A clotted parable on a flag on a-dune.
Your sinews rotate until they are numbers.
Your song is glib, your sacramental boo-hoo
Fear of silence appears or reappears.
This is the silhouette of your father’s chassis.
This is the window.
Revile your loaf, the paper says.