Climb up the billboard with me and stare out at the city.
Stand with me on the ledge and take my hand.
If they find us count to three and then let go,
save yourself.

you, a white wolf moths follow you because you hold the moon in your mouth, a silver orb on your tongue, a white glass eye; from my lips pour the larvae of our letters, ( a forgotten wing, i leave echoes of my whispers in the dust on the backs of moths, where my eyes are closed in an emerald soft moment, on amethyst tongues veiled by moss ); you are what dreams are made of, your soft lilac threads and golden twine fingertips making my heart into a smear of whispers; you, in a veil of forest fog, i see only your hollow eyes and ink spilling from your jowls; fawn spots i

Were this a whisper kept low, soft; as though Winter sun shadow-sifted, tossed amidst The sweep of scattered limb and splintered bough, A gentle breeze that under canopies Of icicles had crept, so soon dismissed By idle cardinal's chatter in the eaves- Never, no. Insistent instead; a pitch high and clear, To shake some constant evergreen alight, Awake, aware; needle-sharp, piercing drear And dulled alike that were culled of glisten In fiercest dark of bare, blanched friendless night. This, then; from whistling wind to branch: listen, Hearken, hear.

Emperor Penguin:
In the dark, deep cold
huddled on a sea of ice,
they wait for their women.
Week upon week, month upon month,
each balancing an egg on his feet
under the warm fold of his belly.
Steadfast.
    
                 The bus broke down on the way
                 to Jenny's first date.

I ate
the gold leaf
it tasted of cinnamon and time
it crumbled on my tongue like tiny hairs on moth wings
leaving glitter dust on my lashes and cheeks

I glanced up for reprimand and found
that nothing is forbidden
we eat to our hearts' content
and drink water that fills our throats with song

Even I
ate the purple heart
that grows at the middle of my own tree
Imagine that,
a living, breathing tree
separate from myself
but still, actually me
fibrous and juicy and bursting between my teeth

and then,
laughing, I ran

He had been warned, but snow-blind, feverish
from hours of hiking, lost in blizzard winds,
his toes and fingers paralyzed, his cap
frozen into the nest of icicles
that once had been his hair, he found the inn.
No words or stories mattered, only life;
and nothing less than God’s breath on his neck
could stop his feet from climbing up the steps
as clumps of ice fell through the metal grate
and dropped into deep whiteness far below.
His boots put up a fight. A boy in green
appeared, and pulled them off, then led him to
a raw plank table near a golden fire

Ask for a Security Deposit



I said: micromachines make my skin crawl.

Don't worry, said the Dr.,

they'll just rent one lobe temporarily.

It's true I need the money.

You hunger for the fat-rich hide
of seal. You live to eat, to fight,
to mount, to mate. Across the wide

expanse of permafrosted white,
you trail her tracks, and can recall
that time you tasted blood and fright,

the pain of feral fangs, the brawl
with fifteen-hundred mauling pounds.
That day you were the one to fall.

And yet your prowess on these grounds
has only strengthened through the years
of earning scars and broken crowns.

You dip your head, pull back your ears,
throw wide your jaws, and hurl the roar

With no stairwell, we use the rain for rods;
listen to it drumming on the caravan.
The pump pushes rain from the water butts
and the water runs soft from the tap –

listen to it drumming in the caravan.
We take a rudimentary shower;
soft water falls from the rose,
washes the mud off our weary bodies.

After a rudimentary shower,
we find the towels that the sun has stiffened,
pat water off our weary bodies
and push the hard mattresses together;

we bind the towels that the sun has stiffened
and talk of the river that will flood the path;

I would write a poem but:
Lego Batman needs his arm
putting back on
it’s handwriting practise time
the neighbour has brought over
a rhubarb pie
it’s stopped raining so we should
stride the fields
swallow    some    fresh    air
pork chops won’t cook themselves
someone wants to microwave popcorn
two brothers argue and the third calls
for a mediator

So this was all I managed
before my husband wanted
to show me, he bought a ukelele