knowing my dreams are dreams makes them no less stressful

the air between us now, all needles and sulfurous furnaces
some casual cruelty come, bleach white and fuming
shall I cup my hands again, a chalice to catch your sick
shall I cast it ‘pon the kitchen floor, read you our future
all chunks and spatters // your mouth too many teeth
shall I teach you to swallow some, shall we gather, go
unforgiven again, lain down in muddy fields, waiting
to be plowed under, do you know that I am tired, that
another day waits beyond yet another damned dawn.

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.

III.I.MMXIII

III.I.MMXIII

dawn raises her

self painfully from

that sharp horizon,

great guttural exhalations

escaping her ragged

maw, another sky

pressing her back

down, grim, gray,

groaning that today

is not yet

that day, not

yet ready for

some bloody beginning.