{<RECENT}
some recent and not so:
[thirst rag]
mouth a souvenir from the exodus of shapes-
her mom
ate something
blue
~
[vertices]
a female bodybuilder is yelling at her father for refusing to turn off the mower. a half-naked boy on a bike coasts past them both in the direction of a woman who’s professed to have a snake that’s all ears. I am in a third floor apartment crookedly hugging a window air-conditioner I nightly dream has fallen. my kids are together on a bottom bunk under a blanket stabbing each other with a pair of scissors from the mailman’s last meal. the neighborhood widows lean on separate swing-sets and shape their memories of toy pianos. I can hear it now my brother saying that any and all travel is anti-childhood as he explains to my mother why it is that grief gives god closure over exit to the subconsciously alone.
~
[I know by cobweb]
(I know by cobweb)
the childbearing age
of a ghost, that dream
has taken
mirror, and also
that I cannot reopen
the mouth
my mouth
erased
~
[a delicacy, here, this harm]
mother my eyes
my longest
miracle
mother my bones
I owl
your voice
above my son
how much hair
can christ
swallow, is it human
to want
for the uni
cyclist
a more
cinematic
church
~
[survived]
I learn early on in the poem
that god can hear an insect
cry. how terrible.
there’s more-
~
[beheadings]
poverty is nothing more than jesus pouring milk from a soldier’s helmet into the nest of a delirious and elsewhere bird. how long have you had that invisible mirror? I can’t taste blood. fever is my mother’s crown.
~
NOTE:
thru June 11th, Lulu is offering 10% off all print books AND free mail shipping (or 50% off ground) with coupon code of BOOKSHIP18
poetry collections, mine, self-published, are here: http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/acolyteroad
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