A DIMINISHED TRIAD

 

1

a night moment 

the day kept -

i never met anyone
who looked ugly 

in the trumpeting & flickering

of driftwood firelight

2

obedient steel
homogenised
on the permalink blacktop

ferrys our shopping core around

3

night harvest

cool jazz coda

the unplumb mornings

jazz to limp

MEDICINE WOODS

 

mornings dont feel like 

mornings used to

& night doesnt feel like 

night should

in 

the 

seventeenth generation mimeograph 

of insomnia & sickness 

in the thick of the medicine woods

COBWEB ELBOWS

i worry
that memories
may degrade
with each needy use

like a favourite jumper

already skeined thin

at its cobweb elbows

& i worry i dont 

husband them enough

like maybe

i should be

~

but still

the fallen garden apples

gone sweet with rot 

& all the flies there

conjure crystal 

childhood moments

of paddington ringer t's

& moccasin slippers

gone slippy & shiny underneath

& still 

the supermarket shower gel

of jungle & sport & sage 

mirrors those mornings long ago

when things

were different

enough to count

WHERE NEON TURNS TO WOOD, A RHYME POP-FRAG

the mornings
need a caretaker

the gone days
need curation

my small words
are diy bouquets

not everything
is a question

~

but the answers my friend
are up around the bend

past arts appropriation creases
down where the neon turns to wood

DISCARDED TOYS & OTHER POPLINGS

time

is

in

its hardest light

waiting on antibiotics

to

kick

their

damn

selves

in


~

mirth free laughter

a discarded toy

foreign policy . . .

i got the 

downstream
creek bed
lost body blues

~

the years pass fast

shrink like violets

but the mornings -

long

slow

silt-fat dredge

to

the

luncheon

shore

from researchgate.net