She Shrugs Cloud Shadow

The tv spills a cold, invasive blue

I have an impression 

Of you walking on my spine

As if I were an arc and cable bridge

And you a monster movie freak

Grown so large and petulant that

None could help but fall

The sea below hard and pliable as new discoloured bruises

Tear it down, you say

Crush them all beneath your unbound feet

As if the stillness

Before and after earthquakes

Were merely punctuation

Wrath is love, you write on the sky

The moon moves farther away each year

I still abide, calling in that silent way

That I have always had

She shrugs

Cloud shadow, listens

Almost Human

I check to make sure
You have knees and ankles
Not like people on TV
Who almost always don’t have either
Not sure
How they locomote 
Perhaps on wheels
Perhaps they float
But at least their waists
Sometimes appear
And their smiles are full of hope

Categorized as Poems Tagged ,

Jesus on Mars

Beds are narrower on TV
 People talk face to face
 Unafraid of halitosis 
 Or other unfortunate intimacies
 We populate our borrowed homes
 With arbitrary things 
 To imbue ourselves with personality
 And life’s outré laugh-track semblances 
 Wearing masks to unpretend 
 How we see familiar faces
 In the shapes of cups and clouds
 But just these peculiar vacancies 
 Where strangeness starts
 From your face
 An ageless breath has carved
 Another empty planet