Handing out wings

like they were portions of God

this narrow asphalt

made by architects of tourism

movers of time and space

reaching out like insane astronauts or genius heretics

breathing our iodine

becoming halogens

the sky moves sideways

dystrophic airwaves

feeble beacons

eerie radio silence

here come more perils from the sky

To perhaps
remember?

Life lived before.
The leaf circling the
sky. The breeze on
skin.  I know it.

Or I feel it.  The wind
like kisses.
These things

just beyond thought
glisten like oil on the
synapses of experience.

Glimpsed on one
side of consciousness.
Saudade. To be
in the
dream.

To feel nostalgia.
To wonder if

it all might have been

different?



Caroline Shank

There's no life in her eyes
There's no warmth in her heart
I'd said to myself that she was kind
When the veil fell I saw Death waiting
No love, only secrets to immortality

While shackled forever
In a circle of fire- without sight
What did strike me as beautiful was
The time I spent dying in her arms
No love, no more secrets this time

“where summer’s bronzes dull and sink”

the trees are like
wet coat hangers,
holding up the leaves,

my cat is frosty like
an october morn,
sleeping on the sill,

everything is dripping
like a wet pair of
jeans taken out of the wash,

the sky wears its greys
of cloud, dim and dramatic
it opens summer eyes.

Entwined hearts in a tomb of
ten-thousand dahlias,
heavy breaths like each their last
reach longingly aloft.

Unlike every choking vine
that digs entombing claws;
their winters spent together
tethers their hearts to clouds.