Harvest
September 4, 2014 § 1 Comment
everything
clean there’s nothing
to do
the white
parts of the cat
move quickly
the breeze
that brings
a hot wind
it’s hard to
separate the asshole
from the illness
slivered and
only consolidated
later the eggplant
the actresses
their blurred
parts acceptable
the actresses
their outrage
it’s staged
from SEED CATALOGUE (1995)
September 1, 2014 § Leave a comment
wanting not to kill
the snail who gorges on
my succulents
the green apple
on the counter
vibrates
in the heat flies
peel away from the shade
on the wall
no words come
pulsing in chambers
the meat dance
back to No. 2
a scattered symposium
of light
sweet gum fruit
heaped in the gutter
will work for food
sun bathing next to
the freeway something
bites my leg
the shadows of three
geese slide down
the side of the hospital
standing on phone
books for the proper angle
a map of the world
I am the water in the wave of the air
the house darkens into
the rain I hold her
approximation
high pitched whine
the smell of damp soil from
the potted ivy
surveillance relationships
August 21, 2014 § Leave a comment
because he’s
green I can’t
kill the fly
July 22, 2014
July 22, 2014 § 2 Comments
the quiet guy with
the books goes inside and
yells at himself
where are they?
the moon the crow
that belongs to this sound
men who dress
as skeletons we take
them for our fathers
little black beetles become the broccoli
the green egg is really green
the cats agree
rabbits act differently
than cats
pressure from
the nozzle the hose
doesn’t know it’s off
on the spectrum
July 19, 2014 § Leave a comment
the fence is the gaps
between slats let’s
forget our manners
