Tuesday, February 12, 2013

“SOMETIMES I THINK I HAVE THE DREAMS CONTINOUSLY EVERY MINUTE OF THE DAY, PERHAPS WE ALL DO...”


“SOMETIMES I THINK I HAVE THE DREAMS CONTINOUSLY EVERY MINUTE OF THE DAY, PERHAPS WE ALL DO...”

time is a slumber
drowsily devouring
each day

collecting along the
webbed cracks of
an empty—you know

what belongs here,
if you don't, your
spinal fluid still

does.

ASYMETRICAL OBJECTS


ASYMETRICAL OBJECTS

a fractured porcelain moon
glimmering dully on an asphalt sky

the television's plaintive whine
rising up to greet the arterial dawn

a body next to a body next to a fall—

the horizon and its dark opposite
crushing the day like a bloodied jaw

nine arms after nine hours serving
a solitary twilight, drawn into a

presumptive embrace, a sleeping draught,
water carrying itself to rest, to gurgle

away another night.