Poetry

Itch becomes ache
The ache a dull throbbing
Sun too brilliant
For these eyes

After weeks of snow,
under rotting leaves, a
crocus,
showing yellow!
Spring
takes me down-
we wrestle,
a sparrow in the feeder,
plumping up,
flying off.

The piano chord most adjacent to the inexpressible is the
one that dissolves into flocks of flying birds

The tree as it moves through the breeze most

Aunt Ginny is up in her Cessna
Navigating circles and dips
Swooping in the sun

I wanted to talk jive.
I wanted to be funky
like the white boy who sang
psychedelic slang

I’ve burdened my son with this now.
He misses strides, kisses the silence,
twists himself into a wretched mess.

You describe your dream:
Recurring images of chemo-stallions racing across your night sky

A sixteen-foot blowfish stuck her spiny yellow claws into my arm
Then planted her fuschia balloon lips on my chest

The shiny seven-foot dolphin offered a smoke.