don’t ask me what i did today

litany contracted boredom in list form
contracted into sleeping with the boss
she – yawning moonlight -
offered more of much the same …

dreamed – tsunami-style …

nothings #10

response to ground by Giant Shadows

one breathslip and      there   there     here

not what you think or even what you

felt right then. a moment       falling    now

nothings #9

For a while I was an angel’s confidante. It took time for me to undress names like angel-slut. Peel truth from jealous lie. Choose the side I winged for. I did it though it was forespoken. Like the end.

Now and everynow, I come to you, beloved. I wear nothing.

Now and everynow. I bare only you.

nothings #7

On the wall a shimmer hints of motion, teases still. Scarlet woman then but sanguine now, i splice acquiescent moon – to hang your shadow, maybe, in the empty space. All those missing moments, shades that clouded night, they are suspended now – aimless and immobile. In epicentric heave a lightning snap delivers life from death. Motion soothes an ache of time so my back is still against the wall.

nothings #6

“don’t forget …”
voice already spilling into shadow’s current, spreading,
merging with a starrish sky, pointed saviours far away.

“me. now …”
in the hum of blindsight’s thrall, be knotstill and listen.

nothings #5

the ache to move forward, poignant as the urge to look back, wonders if things could have been … different. lines cross and she steps not-so-lightly over them. dressed in rare bizarrity torn on barbed wire she is floating, limbless now, among the bright organza. be-ribboned flesh bleeding breath and humming stars.

sometimes
she sees only red
in mind
on claws
again

nothings #4

Six years ago we smiled and talked anew of hammer drills and trucks, the grand design and beloved demons. Two hundred miles changed everything. It’s weird how I felt nothing when your heart stopped.
How the steady pulse of rain on road still travels through dark hands.

nothings #3

I scribble dreams on sheets; fold them, carefully, around me. It isn’t that they’re fragile. I just want to wear them all, smudge them and wake covered in their ink.

nothings #2

 

They think you’re dead. Dust on the ocean. Fish food now.

Dead has four letters, one repeat so three. And dea isn’t a word in English so it’s incomplete or something else. A prelude maybe.

Always has six letters, one repeat so five. Not counting decades of linguistic change – they change numbers and geometry. All wayes. Not even just one word, hey?

Then there’s the big bad book. Now that nails mind and perspective to a fishing rod destined to stay empty. Some bait, huh? Do fish count the days to their next meal?

Forget the words and numbers.
Everything is lost if translation lacks a heart.

You don’t have to try that hard to see a full moon all the time no matter what the quadrant says.

By the way, life has four letters. No repeats. Soul food for the gods?

nothings #1

Tail lights glitter. Sawdust on ten thousand miles of ice and desert, chrome and mud. Between here and dawn, now and then. Where in hell are you? Dante ain’t seen nothin’ yet. He should talk to me.