Bildungsroman: Imbibing I would eat, but she would drink cod liver oil—rancid sea stank, fire- swamp sharp over my pancakes, my pbjs, my faith that people put good things in their bodies, not lich elixir: the dank desiccating darkness of that vile vial. And she drank and hunched further, got slower and sadder. Drank because
Wish Whisper It isn’t much. It isn’t, but even the best translations are half dream anyway. The best interpretations let the blue fingers of the past find the future’s soft palm and say something tender there. I call for you here the moth of finding, the top of whose wings are green, so, when resting,
Across the Median So much for direction— the highway’s hunger, every bend every curve. One course, two directions. Feet can bisect lines crossed and recrossed that see in pairs that will never face one another. Parallel stripes. So much rests on reflective yellow or white paint, eyes fixed on a traveler with a destination. Something
Elegy for Disguises Tonight the gig is up. The frozen over lake is all slusharound its borders. It isn’t fooling anyone onto its drop-down dancefloor. The branch above meets tree at raggedrupture, no body will trust it with its weight. So, too, shouldwe think of the night. Its dark looks full enough but is nogood
Periapt on the Sash Lock Under this billboard where the shadows are safe from savage light, protect me. Keep me from the shifting shapes the high beams makethat become you dancing, or laughing, or touchingyour lip. Shield me from the doppler shift the faces of old friends take telling me I could neverreach. Hold me.
