June 15, 2012

poem 190 of a poem a day for 2012

paper, pencil and wine

I squint
bleeding held Summer
in the Sun’s disguises
the air is so warm
it dares the smoothest
needle entry of every sin
my skin likes
the myriad folds
of vines in ever-static-bloom
I consume
as a hungry mouth does
with no stomach
to stop my appetite

I am a heady macabre
a knob turning
nursery rhyme
in which time is
the oldest god
in the mirror that
says sit still Edward
and ponder me
while I wander
with you
until you crawl again
to a birth portal
where another mother
will wait to say

I am your ripe whelping
I am another helping of your will
your personalities and disorders
that brim with what you distill
ignorance into shade with
I am a light transmuted into eyes
with a desire to erase
the smell of memory
in every over-eager moment
you tremble wait with  
for the next great thing
one after another
selling down river
the scent of every
brother, sister,
father , mother
searing a brand
of comfort caged
from the melted wax
forming your hands
you congeal a rage for what
reveals the way
you play God and Goddess

because Edward
you have no patience
for wooden pews
and those hues
between I and we
and the injustice of  
cleaning muddy feet
with the intentions
of putting shoes back on
so as not to feel
the silt gold between toes
and each way
your wants comes a-waving



  1. "the air is so warm
    it dares the smoothest
    needle entry of every sin"
    wow, impressive.