I’m humming too quickly for the birds to understand the melodious
and my dank petrol is now a garden fire
with too many roses for a grim
and all the angelic spoils
of Loving You
completed.

I am stunned.

Stunned where the sun seldom shines
on a prodigal son.
I self sustain in the swoon
as your embrace defaces
my self-loathing.
and all quadrants of Peace
are mine to gather up
into a spoil

and I am happy to remove
the dark

the span of all my Dreams.

for the span
of all my
Heart.

Indeed.

hand me down stories
an indian burial ground
figures in the woods
three piles of rocks
the same log
bundle of blood


               i am so, so sorry

When I was young
I slipped out of the tub
stinking clean as
the moon and the suds
in the crack of my ***
slipping out the back window
with my pants and boots
buck naked and brave
and my Daddy’s daddy’s
daddy’s knife tucked between
my teeth, but lonely and sad
because it’s all that I had
except for the twenty
that I’d saved
for the ten hour ride
from the bus station
to the recruiter, but alive
hoping my Mother, when shaking
my quilt out that morning
after my last night
remembered my down
in the sunlight
because I didn’t sleep there
and I remember thinking
if I don’t alight here again
take all that is left
of my memory out
and work it loose
from the bone with a thumb
the way you taught me to
clean a fish until all that remains
is a fleeting thought and toss it
in one motion the sad dance of fire.

The bells are dun. Pewter-smitten in a quagmire of un-crisp pings.
there’s a church where a sparrow would go. but more ravens now
on the hill. bathing in salts and moonglow…
singing to brackish ponds and cattails
after moths have fallen off the tip
of flames
that our campfires
do.

we are so marooned
it’s like we’re
together
when the world
is gone

but for true.

My grandpa
             Words he gave
                            To me once upon a full moon
“Son” he said
            “When you go into this life”
“Remember, that love is a language “
             “So find, my son, find someone”
                     “Who speaks your language “
      “So you don’t have to translate your soul”
                                   Hmmm.