The First Critic

101

Black out in the sun,

leave your ligaments behind –

you’ve fallen and

you deserve some rest.

I could lend you these

wrist accessories;

your character may want

some borrowed attitude.

This angst is stagnant,

and you can’t spell

“volatile” without love.

Find me in the isolation tank.

His heart hears signs that

are so often misconstrued as a pulse;

(but) his heart is broken chalk

in a rainstorm.

10

Black out on the sun,

blood spills from

the clouds like

a meteor shower.

I thought I wanted

to ask you something,

but I can never seem to

spit it out. Soooo……

“How was Easter?”

mine was quiet;

I want to tell you we belong

somewhere at the same time;

I think I want to ask you

somewhere.

1

Black out the sun.

Ice slice your eye sockets

as your heart slips

into its red giant phase.

She’s fleeting faster

than spring semester.

Sad to say –

no progress has been made.

The glass is half

broken and the remaining

shards are slurring their speech

in suspended liquid.

So dance in silence;

I’ll miss you from afar.

A Forest of Wolves and Dark

Chase the smoke;

          you’re unlucky.

Sunsets dissipate –

blue-grays

coagulate;

you’re softer now.

Or at least

I envision you as such.

But dark

darker

darker still.

You’re my last leg

to stand on

amongst the filth.

You,

lost and lonely.

You,

soft and only.

You,

like the perfect sunset:

          too far behind me

just out of reach.

Tryst

Why?

not you.

Why not you?

It may

have been slipping

gracefully past morning.

Grayer than

your silent films.

You.

And why.

Headless angel –

          eyes

          nose

          mouth;

          dialect

hovering above your neck.

Delicate.

Your nape

cool and soft.

Morning without you.

Y. Not U.

U and Y.

Once Upon an Oversight

Give me a day

for you to treat

these fresh spring 

wounds of mine

I've been collecting them

in secret

in passing

by the roadside

where you once walked.

The pale

sick

sky

screaming overhead

and underfoot;

we don’t know where

we stand anymore

and you've exited that

dream of mine

a trillion times

where one of us pulls away

just as the other

becomes too attached

to breathe

or sleep

or slip further

into safety

or slide further

into the guarded

arms of regret.

Ego Dominus Tuus

There was a void

instead of the horizon.

There was a storm

in place of the sun.

The new sun

was a storm.

A black hole

with a cloud outline.

Handling the hail

we held on to hope

of better days coming.

There was a void

on that horizon.

There was ungular

damage to each sky.

The new end

to the new tremor.

A windless summer

in the breath.

Breathing in

ballistic barbs before

letting go of you.

Missing Sarah Tonin

Emergency opening

through the side

of an aluminum can

into a forest

of wolves and

dark.

And between six

stars staring

I’m watching hundreds of words

come falling flailing

or pouring

or streaming

from and out

of your eyes.

Trying to induce

your seismic fever to

break

using plastic spoons

and lukewarm water

until the sky cries open

snowing millions of shards

of glass down –

small enough to breach

your grimacing fingertips

undetected;

drinking spiders

‘til dawn.

Pixelated Virus

The smoke was dancing

as it left my lungs

and just like that

45 memories

that never happened.

One more drop of blood

to extinguish

or add to

the ever-screaming inferno.

And despite my windows up

it’s still snowing

in my car.

Here

it’s odd;

outside is even.

The river runs

diagonally

and you’re halfway

to December

through August.

Nothing could kill me;

nothing killed me

except that final shot

of absinthe –

too much laudanum

all on fire.