Poem-A-Day #186 : Nostalgia

Nostalgia

In the dark fields of summer - the heat escapes us
it crawls into the sky in tendrils of smoke - it creeps

Our heat is a suck - the roads hoard it like money

This isn't some theft - the universe gives no fucks

The day collapses - it shatters - it is our job
to find the pieces and to stick them together with gold

To hold this moment in our minds - perfect it

The pressure of our remembering will diamond it
until it is something that cannot ever have existed

An inner-earth ocean full of monsters

The darkness will not stay dark here - it will recede
it will become the light on the surface of a lake - your eye

It will also degenerate with time - it will never be a photograph
like the heat held in pavement - the night will leech it off

Poem-A-Day #52 : The Sentence as a Possible Record of Carnage

The Sentence as a Possible Record of Carnage

I hold my hand to light - the sky a field of green behind the flesh

My veins and trees and some other things merge into a skin color

Someone told me that the sentence is a possible record of carnage

That a judge will pull out the desired effect like a string from a sweater

And the unraveling will be spectacular -

I am sure that the universe cares little of blood and scales

That in the end the thread will not pull so much as un-thread

A violence of evenness - of being forever separate

You there - little period at the end of this line - what's the weather like.