Poem-A-Day #308 : Prayer-curse For A New Year

Prayer-curse For A New Year

Coyote's bowed head in the flashlight
and the thickness of frost out across the field
is a sign of something in the New Year

A hunted thing - silence in the crook of a tree
mistaken for meaning and darkness

You could crawl in that space - live out a life
unexamined - the hermit - a cowl and staff ready
if only you could open your drawn-on mouth

On the drive home you cannot escape yellow eyes
the sign of possession in every movie ever made

The trickster god opens his mouth and fills
the world with flies and sparking lanterns
polyhedral dice fall in clatters on the tin roof

The sound of grass shattering is a year-is-over sound
a year-is-starting promise that could -

Poem-A-Day #290 : Nightscape

Nightscape

On your skin

A color like purple

It thighs and glides across surfaces

A woman is thrown into the pool of a taxi

There is night and then there is city

Each thing defines itself against the void of space

Your eyes are glares

The streetlight blinks yellow banishing color

Mono

A wish to be the reflection in your sweat

The smell of garbage

A rat across your foot

Uber and crash

Your teeth are violet

Poem-A-Day #288 : Breaking In To The Graveyard Where ___ Is Burried

Breaking In To The Graveyard Where ___ Is Burried

Fold your shoulders
until you fit
through the iron
of the fence

Around you - air origamis and collapses
the fractals of it shrink and expand - this is
a moment where physics cease

Light cannot escape your eyes

I want you to birth yourself
                    - now

The leaves are worried - they red and drop
immediately in response

You
are buttered

A scrape along the expanse
of your
torso

Dislocate your memory

Attach it to the string of a balloon

At the horizon of your vision - a sort of
whirl exists - it is a spot where boats can
manage - can decide -

In the interior
a sound of geese hissing

When you find the grave you are seeking
there will be a garbage truck
rattling in the streets

Did you bring a sandwich
wrapped in cellophane
or brown paper

It matters which

Poem-A-Day #197 : Folie à deux

Folie à deux
1

The field of vision is a narrow band

at the edges it curves into blur - there is a sense of awe

in this unseeing part of the universe

This is where magics occur

Where one hides themselves - from selves

and the gaze of perpetual life

This unseeing is an upside down - it is

a brokered space where anything goes

Unleash


2
Tilt your fovea towards me

I need focus before I can begin

An accident rarely comes alone

But quickly in pairs or more

My pixels - yours - they are held
on a thumb drive that will not lock into its port

We are untraceable - saved read-only

Destiny will permit an edit or comment to possibly edit later

But our outlines will not become permanence

Our systems will corrupt


3
There is the solution - endless backups
my mind in yours and your in mine
and then added on to every surface
like moss growing in the cracks of stones

Our lives must be the quiet unseen
must ready in the interim of vision
prepare for being caught in the fovean glare
and ready the poker for them


4
The magic in the unseen
the known and unknown

Here the unfocus allows us to imagine

It brings about a universe that does not exist

Wolves at the door - for instance
wolves in the cupboards - on the internet

Howling in their ability to never be seen from head on

1% of our vision is fully in focus
and 99.99% of the world is unattainable

I understand the family who get in their car and drive into nonexistence
only to realize out there in the bush that they can still see each other

And unless we're going to poke our own eyes out -

Poem-A-Day #196 : System

System

Room full of stars
Room full of tiny explosions in glass orbs

Snow globes shaken
Coating the world in gold

It will drain down the walls
The air crying itself into light

Maybe these are eyes let loose from their bones
Souls on ice

Here are the hanging Christmas lights of the world
Light free from itself kissing space

The universe in its spheres
Singing

Poem-A-Day #183 : Zeus in New Mexico

Zeus in New Mexico

The lid of the sky
and the lid of the ground

A half-open eye

The copper stream of tears
reverses itself

The day is a statue unearthed
in a field after millennia

It is missing its body

Its hand is missing fingers

In the cataract
milky self-rorschach of shadows

This thing sees you
and now seen you exist

The view from my patio

Poem-A-Day #182 : Incubate

Incubate

clear
bubble
crystal
an eye loosed
tadpole
glass on skin
the enormity of the eye

then the pupil spins
it jerks
spasms
tiny t-rex arms
gripping water
losing
working up to break the ceiling

froth
water at boil
bone broth and simple syrup
a tail is a hand
it clouds
bubble as locomotion
eye taking it all in

engorged
what does losing a tail feel like
breaking a crystal ball
it goes down the stairs like boom
it sinks quick
skin is paper
ripping

the feeling of it inside you
a bot fly in your neck
pillow
the sound of fans
fingers on metal now
what rebirth is this
blindness and seeing for the first time