I, possessed, fail earth.
There is my child: an emperor, warily among the
flute blown sea around. I amble after only
My child, conflated of jaggery and ire,
wraps himself in love, therefore
a shriveled head he stretches upon.
If he loses sleep on the first day of the year,
the year is shot.
So I, who possess the trouvailles of life
am spent, idols whispering into my volute ear,
brute messages that do not feign to care.
His eyes move
as he shoots the wool.
Spring emergent muscle red
as a bandolier.
Smiling to death, a party.
A horse runs, neck snapping.
A horse in the church that I carry
dervishes almost like a poem,
tending to the left,
cricketmouths of unfinished milk.
Who knew you were clothed of the opposite sex,
blue dress at dusk, relents at dusk.
Star of Bethlehem, imp of Solomon,
lips of Salome, eyes of Cleopatra.
Pines are appearing currently and soon in CAB/NET, Cannibal, Cranky,
Hot Whiskey, and
elsewhere, as well as in The Pines Volumes One,
and Three (Southern California; Ridgefield, Connecticut; The
of Columbus, respectively). The Pines Volume Four
forthcoming in 2007. Visit their website at: thepines.blogspot.com
Archived at http://lit.konundrum.com/poetry/thepines_poems.php