I am counting things
at night numbers, dreams
hum of a hundred bells
soft harps to soothe
sweet with birds colored blue
in the tiger grass, big eyed cats
twitchy whiskers and paws
they sleep beneath tree limbs
branches wild and gnawed.

Do not wake me
while the garden is glowing
a thousand flowers in rows
I am fixed on violets
hydrangeas indigo blue
with fingers I paint thick
brick in red rose variants
on the lawn peacocks in resplendence
with monde blue-green iridescence
and a million gypsophila clouds pass by.

i.

roses in the dust,
winter-love greys, shadows
of a lost world.

ii.

i was much smaller than i thought
and the sky
a rounded dome,

a cathedral of light
with stone arches

river-green pillars

and the blue-green
emotions
of dream....

iii.

imagination
waited, an
opal star
blown against
the tide.

iv.

all i could see was the
blues and greens
paper blushed,

clouds and watermarks,

watery daylight
like a glistening pool

as if the sky
was a stained window
and there was
no fire,
only a scattering
of light

only softness
of the heart,
only the magics

of its mirror mists.

v.

like maple leaves
fallen in a
stream filled
with moonlight
in the rivery
nets of the soul.

(ix)

at a therapy session
for those
unable
to dream
I am handcuffed
to my mother
whose imaginary
lover
has lice

a baby born with a wig
rattles on
about sleep

death’s eyepatch

(x)

on these bikes these boys are beautiful

/ passing men under spell of god, the order

maybe dissolved

of the bent
cigarette

/ I will not miss art

five-thousand fathers
to burn
a fish

but ease, but hunger

a girl putting all her pain in a turtle
or in anything
lifted
from the hood
of her sister’s
coat

/ a firecracker
read
by a bone

(xi)

what a ghost knows about giving birth
powers on
a mechanical bull

father says there is nothing
like it
in Ohio
this giving

god

to a jack-in-the-box

there is a word my mom makes
from a word
she can’t

/ orbituary

/ brings it all
home

(xii)

the human dream

god’s attempt at a short story

the animal
works

miracles

/ the elephant
in its ruin
takes up
for whale

yeah, it rains here
rains
glue

adult diapers
are fishhook
rare…

/ tell your sister
nothing happened
to mine

(xiii)

imagine how long god must’ve been left alone to be named after the first person whose name he said. how hungry the mother to swallow hair.  how bored her baby to remember.  how small the television that spitballed hell.  hidden the horse to keep its church.  black the water to transport fish.

(xiv)

the black eye
given
to the moth-catcher’s
most attractive
child…

what a woman predicts
becomes false

subtraction
the plus side
of trauma

her mother’s
babied
past

Comes a time
when the mathematics
of the years
becomes more about
- than +,
÷ rather than x.

When wisdom gained
< vitality lost,
and dis-ease > health.

A good night's sleep
and some energy ≈
happiness.

Living is
tangential
to survival,
and not
necessarily
congruent.

Out on a Georgia dirt road
Fully loaded, making time
I've gone a million miles
All on someone else's dime

From Utah to Kentucky
Nevada up to Maine
I've been on super highways
I've driven on one lane

America, America
There's just so much to see
I've seen the land, please understand
You help to make me me

I'm just another trucker, mother
Driving empty, driving full
Hauling loads for everyone
From wood, to steel, to wool

Dirt roads and paved highways
They're connected to my brain
I've driven all from coast to coast
In sleet, and sun and rain

America, America
There's just so much to see
I've seen the land, please understand
You help to make me me

Home, to me is driving
I don't have a fixed abode
I get my mail in dribs and drabs
My life is on the road

Just another trucker, mother
I just wish there was more time
To see the countries treasures
All on someone else's dime

America, America
There's just so much to see
I've seen the land, please understand
You help to make me me

this palate is an anvil
this tongue a hammer
forging the edges of words
reversed