Blooming
starfish
limbs.
Fireworks
in the water.
Slowly, my
arms and legs unfolding,
like
throbbing petals in the living blue.
starfish
'tis no good alibi
'Tis no
good alibi
when
night's feral cats are scratching your cheeks
leaving
twin defective vertical stair rails
as the
blood drops pave the rhythm of your song.
'Tis no
good alibi
when words
beaks pick up the maggots
of your self-infected
chest.
No, 'tis no
good alibi
when there
is a dark door obscuring
the path
that leads up to your brain.
There, in
the time
of your
ruin
is your
glove-disguised hand,
great
revenant
of ancient
sound and teenage grip.
that couple
they gathered their heaps of feelings
one on top of the other,
to build high piles of dishes
by the sink of life.
Some were sparkling, some dirty,
some cracked,
some were washed up,
some forgotten,
some glued up, some just bad.
Removing just one
any meaning would topple:
their balance in pieces
to be cleared and dusted
with hurtful slivers
of their jarred hearts.
I lost a handful of poems
I lost a handful of
poems
to the winds of
creditors blowing at my door.
Trying to escape the
constrictions
I erased half of my
heart,
a third of my soul
a thousand and one
minutes of loving
the world,
of enjoying the sun
and the rain.
I saw a ladybird stretching
her wings,
and barely recognized
her.
In the turmoil of
figures blurring my eyes,
wanted to fix on the
black dots sparkling on those smooth red domes.
Got only red figures
staining my blackened mood,
my tarnished song.
skeleton
I have the
skeleton of a language
and even
that has some fissured bones,
that split into pieces
every time
I bend them
to fit into my foolish ways.
woman in the mirror
While you
stand there, praising my face,
that you
deem beautiful,
I wonder
what do you
see that I don't?
Why is this
so difficult to listen to?
Why is this
person who stole my mirror
mocking me
from the glass?
Who moved in,
into my image,
and does
not look the way your eyes
seem to reflect?
blue fish
Blue fish,
just barely touched,
and the sea
star spreading her limbs
in all four
directions,
North,
south, east, and west
and a fifth
balancing the center,
holding on,
barely
bare.
Blue fish
flies, sleek and sparkly
to the
deep, to the deep
running
away from your hand.
Limbs tear
apart and float all around you
in two directions
Northeast, Northwest,
the fifth
one holding for dear life,
barely.
Holding.
Blue fish
swims away, away from your hand
star limbs
are trembling,
floating in
electric currents
Southnorthwestandeast,
no
direction
no course.
A fifth one
trying to grab to the real.
The real is
wet.
The real
slips away.
The real is
gone.
Oceans of
emptiness await you
after
the star
explodes,
after
the blue
fish
swims away,
not to
disturb the ladies
sitting at
the round table,
dry-complaining,
never to
see a drop
of true sea
water.
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