–
tattoo
the spider in my left eye
is also
on the kitchen
floor
of a house
that’s gone
–
lifelike
fog has a better
memory
than rain
–
grief
yes there is one
footstep
left
–
slight revision on the following private publications:
Animal Masks On the Floor of the Ocean, 114 pages, 10.00
poems, June 2019
can be purchased via paypal (bartsmock@gmail.com)
*
MOTHERLINGS, 52 pages, 4.00
poems, June 2019
can be purchased via paypal (bartsmock@gmail.com)
–
film
poison ivy
kept me
from the petting
zoo
–
broom
blood
out past
curfew
–
window
stop
kissing
your brothers
–
pill
but mom
even sleep
dissolves
–
–
frogsong
depression
decorates
a bird
–
miscarry
perhaps a deer
had stepped
on my wrist
–
osmosis
the son takes with him a knife into the bathroom and
–
church
entering the body after a stroke
–
sex
two
as if they fear
a third
–
angels
mystique
that surrounds
a small town
search party
–
chthonic
a prayer asking god to brush your teeth
–
hunger
my first
backpack
–
fraction
sadness
over something
deleted
–
we died
in that dream
but continued
to understand.
I thought
sleeping
skin-to-skin
with my children
would cure
your fear
of flossing. every bomb
touches god.
I forgot
to be in pain.
what is not
there
in that late place
orphaned
by arrival
where a god
names
whose dying
it surprised
(is the last thing
he’ll touch
on purpose
creation
gives guilt
an afterlife
–
the neighbors
found dead, we learn
to miss
the dog afraid of everything
–
(sleep is a movie a mom was in
home and work
oh places
to be safely
poor
oh tonight
I am sad
a zoo
for zoo
laughter
I kiss
my son’s
elbow
the elbow
the knee’s
farewell
we listen to the dishwasher
as if sound
will make us
close, as if he is not
alone
in hearing
his flat
blue
rollercoaster


