because while some truths lend themselves to equations, others are best described in verse

Posts tagged “life

waiting (outside the same cafe where i wrote my mother’s funeral poem)

across the street, two men
argue over the ubermensch,
and a cricket hops brokenly
cross paving stones. from

the corner, scrying: how long
have we sung summer songs
and dreamt of october? running
yellows as they slip to fall,

sometimes it feels
like putting a bandaid
on a bleeder, not tying it off
with knots-in-silk. surgeons

would know these things,
but it is too late
to catch the sun heading
already south, and south

again. across the street,
two women argue
over love & champagne.
the cricket is gone. a maple

tree sighs sickening
as it sleeps in an ocean
breeze, and finally
october yawns & stretches.


This night, there are no stars.

watching sky darken,
we contemplate
words like leaden,

sultry, in-
digo. but leaden
is closer to

the slivered prison
of my rib-cage,
bars behind which

this ache pro-
creates. sultry
means barefoot river

afternoons and indigo
has always been
grotesque, except

on peacocks.
so instead i watch
raindrop veins

on plateglass,
think of melting &
the sublimation

of misted breath,
remember sweat
on glasses,

graveled chaos,
rug-burnt morning
sunlight before

the world changed.
but these windows
will not open and we

feel guilty for
our guilt, wonder
why the stars

stay absent. are
river afternoons so
different, now?

we watch and already
rain is slowing; veins
close & strand drops

in streetlit glass,
almost like star-
light. almost.

 


still life

i slept last night in our bed alone
cramped tight against sweat-
smothered pillows and wrapped up
in winding-cloth sheets
wilted like the flowers you left
on the kitchen table a lifetime ago,
lily petals sagging and baby’s
breath crumbling to ruin
amidst a jumble of empty glasses and
yesterday’s neglected news;
this morning even the coffee smells
lonely.