kingsoftrain

an angel leaves heaven to touch paper as a circle from my childhood rolls toward an empty jack-in-the-box. I am old enough to be sad and too old to separate deer facts from church facts. my children fall asleep before their hands fall asleep.

–

bathtub

I had
hungry
an idea
for a nest

–

kitchen

handsome
as we were
in the heads
of spoons
was fork
that bent
our love

–

shooting range

food
with memory
to spare

–

–

earth

father
breaks his arm
but still
shaves my head

–

hell

is the fingerprint
gone
from the top
of your foot

–

insomniac

whose prophet
shampoos
a bird

–

–

intro

writing is where one goes
to write, it is

(outside of water
not being
blue)

the bluest
place

–

cigarette burn

the shadow
in my arm

–

mirror

the shadow in my arm

(is of
a piece
of glass

–

I won’t keep you in suspense. I was born and then at a strip club crying for those tender people whose children put in private the final touches on god. also there is a meal being prepared that you won’t be able to finish before you die. the preparer of that meal has a least favorite creature and believes hundreds of corpses were dragged from eden by animals that were trying to experience joy. save it when you can

the last of the robot’s short grief

~nearness~

we share
an invisible
drop of rain

but not
a wrist

(the grass
looks a little
lost

~farness~

seeing
a frog
makes frog
an orphan

have I
the poem
we wrote

rain

and the pulse
to god
a scar