Friday, October 17, 2008

She’s Like the Canary in the Coal Mine for All of Us

breath drawn back into perfect circles,
circumference of heart and beating wings,
we can survive in this black.

who decided to crawl down into these depths,
these places where songs
trip and tumble to the center of it all?

clenched jaws in sleep,
thighs tight under covers,
sleep is scuffed shoes,
things you meant to pack but didn’t.

we all need some saving grace,
a glint of a future that hums like harmonicas.

we have lungs,
so we use them to make blossoms,
to pass our breath into another rosy mouth.

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Of Root Canals and Stalled Poems so much perfume in your mouth
a flurry of chalky moths fluttering in a small space.

my nerves are rattlesnakes and tooth-smoke.

there’s nothing worse than a poem,
hurtling into your ear, mid-written,
as you recline in the dentist’s chair,

a room full of licorice and
fingers empty of a pen.

wings huddled in china,
cupped between trembling hands.

     my tongue is a silken building in the middle of
      momentary hailstorms, star-showers.