"as · long · as · your · thought · is · lofty...

caravan of ghosts
tipping over the edge
of the blue mountains
falling over the angry flame

reason the tides
come like a moon
of moons bright and sad
and listening fully
to the diatribe
of hungry voices, and
there is nothing
unbeautiful about
this moon
and very little
unbeautiful about
bloodshed
i am trying to rekindle
the dark
forgo the flame
and worship the anarchy
of what loneliness
does to the mind

it was you lying strictly prone
told me the wine had spilled
and strategically, it was you
that flipped the mattress so
the rust hued stain would
"have never been" and so no
color would signify the depth
of the screaming, the trees
and leaves shouting, and
just this lie so magnificent
i must reform the world,
soon
i will drink a glass of wine

a snake in the garage tonight
as i was slipping outside for a smoke
by the rose garden, and like any other
terrestrial serpent it languished
slowly to the kudzu, a press here
and there, of its body on the still
heated cement

he talks about dragons and flames
and love
what if the supersnare of danger tramples
all of it
if the dog is at the end of the bed,
i can't move my leg
if the sink is too hot, i can't feel the sink
and this all under the auspice
of too much love and explosions
and asking you not too say anything
but ask me
ask me what i was thinking of
that day at the end of the pier
the seals were so suspicious of the rock
i was interested in being young and in love
gigantic every happiness

forage for fealty
for you lapsing into the
forest of me, traipsing
like a gypsy into
circular patterns of
long tall legged grass
and what
we would fall under
and find each others
hands and fingers in the
swaying dream of love
i am far from you
and the grass has turned
parched in the dayscape
drama, and i am licking
a small puddle of salt water
making my aching throat
hoarsely call for something
unsaline. something not bitter
like your body pressed to
my chest without a ticking
bomb, falling further in time
away from a salty embrace
away from blue pens
and markers writing, we are
always far away
i want fresh water
filled with manitees
i want a black velvet screen
covered in salt
and i would grasp
the silver paint pen
and connect all that
fit between us inside a
bitter eros filled affair
a creature made solely of
missing, a creature fed
on salt

surprise! shark is taken by mere invertebrates
terrestrial serpents

hair of so many strangers