Thursday, August 16, 2012

in consequential order

"...inconsequential" she said,
"if shade is useless in the rain."

my mind had wandered off.

        (an aggressive sound,
        that should be reserved
        for the more colorful things:
        the sound of her car,
        [a commonplace,
        if left to her own devices]
        turning around;
        the sound of  autumn leaves,
        like her fingers,
        picking and peeling,
        powdering and posturing)

my mind snapped back
as she pulled the umbrella closer
and the difference in height,
made me have to crouch.

she was probably right,
-what ever it was-
it probably was
if shade is useless in the rain..."

...     ...     ...     ...

that night,
when the rain stopped
and the power
came back on,

it was already too late.

everything closes
so early around here...

she kicked me in her sleep

        (i pricked my finger
        on a loose nail
        when i pulled the covers

and mumbled
something about hunger.

Friday, August 10, 2012

Lake County, Oregon

where every page
of our lives
and writing;
not hiding;
bound in flesh),

can be carried by the fistful
or buried by the wishful,
the truth
begins to blur.

the edges of arrogance
and ignorance
(startled in the open
by the deadpan stare of a needle
and the breath of a thread),
reach for the peripheral
in a maddening dash
for the past-

the first chapter-

the title page-



but tomorrow.