And I realize what I owe (Try this, baby)

sunflowerByron and Browning

and Donne and Neruda

will tickle people’s noses

when I burn

but

       let

             my

                     light

                               heavy

                                          bone

                              pollen

                    flour

         over

my

       father’s

                        sunflowers

                                   yawning

               newbright

        face

good

          morning

                           sweetheart

                     my

        plump

sweetheart

                     time

                               to

                        eat.

Not-vegan gecko slams moth against window

geckoGot you

dumb flitter-

er I knew you would come

to the light

is not edible

but you are

 

Down you

so much to chew

through your high-

fiber good-cholesterol

butterfly-wannabe

wings

Still alive

so what

I’m not like that fluffed-

up halal-happy

tree-hugger

the man of the house throws

an acorn at

every morning

domesticated chitter-

er, umm, mmm

 

got you

juicy beauty

pageant body

in my mouth

 

squirm a little

yes

 

Why is she kicking the orange stump?

stumpPossible saplings surround the parent tree.  Am I parent or are you?  Foreign curses swoop over my head, unsheathed, grinning.  I don’t know what you’re saying but I know it is horrible.  Read in closet, shelter with stories.  Simplify.  Breathe.  Peace.  Grow—armor like leafy wings.  Tree, bird, sword—all these are yours, all these are you.  Open—out—ah, tell me she isn’t wearing house slippers.

via Daily Prompt: Stump

Bird talk: pelican to phoenix

krishna-altarJoy is a sandwich from the airport, signifying your return.  The clock starts up again, like some forgotten tribal drum.

Did you miss me?  Silly—I always miss you.

Where did you go?  (Sprouts, cucumber, aioli, turkey.  Fancy napkin)  It is desert but cultivated closer to where people live.  The horizon recedes.

What did you learn?  The reasoning is very fine, very fine.  I attended a seminar on noise, and I brought you a book about silence.  Hey, let me talk to you about standard deviation.

You are washing up.  Artifacts from abroad are strewn like debris.  (Maps, routes, hotels, tickets)  I am home because you are.

I munch my sandwich.  (What is aioli?  What is an ombudsperson?)  Movement away from you is only movement towards, twirl like a dervish from birthday to deathday.  Teach me, Agni, to look upon the unseen like an awaited face, and say: I miss you all the time.

Master Deceiver (Fire Engine Man)

angel womanYou say, “Beware of idlers at train stations.  They start fights, they beat people.”  So—how shall I regard the woman thrashing on the couch, working herself up in theatrical stages?  From here I can see the broken curtain and the gob of plaster poorly patching the wall.  The air shivers, like the hollow around my heart, but it does not shatter.

“I’ll knife you three times, a thousand times, I’ll stamp you to death,” is the litany, followed by laughter.  “I should have been an actress,” she says.  She is bored, and there has to be someone to blame.  The air shivers, like the hollow around my heart, but it does not rupture.

Agni has given me a boulder and a hill.  I know the rock intimately: its protuberances, the way it abrades my hands, the notch it has left in my right shoulder.  My foot sinks in mud or sand as I feel the thrill of nearly perfect command—jubilation hari!  Without the perpetual push, I suppose I would be—

crying and laughing on the couch or an idler at the train station.

 

via Daily Prompt: Shiver