Charcoal rainwater blazes and forks. Like thin, black, sideways wet-fire, it races unstemmed down Napoli sidewalks, to dive, with a croak, into Napoli gutters. Its rabid hydra-hisses, recorded, are now broadcast indoors, tinny through buzzy speakers bolted to the high walls of the theatre, far above the boxes and balconies. …
september 2021 Blesséd be Luna, reborn in the dark I step quietly to you, in this time before things. As you grow, shade sister, to your harvest blush, blesséd be your cosmic milk, blesséd be your velvet secrets, blesséd be your tactile scars, blesséd be your sinewy pull, and blesséd be your journey - from mystery hush, to the sound of your shine
Your wry wary words, deft, and kind, that I brushed away, as if they were weightless now rattle roller-coasting wide ellipses in my skull, each loop a queasy pinch of hard-earned truth you gave of If only I could power the fog lamp on the front cart, its searching beam could splash on something other than thundering tracks.
Howling weeks uncurl ahead At this depth, light is a promise The fall pine lays dead, no sound was made new seed is held in a cold soil womb If saplings hoist through thunder and hail, fronds could jostle, branches, embrace – give succour and shelter to crawlers and flyers, as roots thrum in soil and bark hugs a core More daylights must dapple wolf moons must croon Will these gusts disperse? Will wildflowers yawn?
poem about 2007 You feel them on the freezing afternoons the fifteen moths abuzz inside your gut You call the man and fret until he shows You set the scene and pull the shutters down But daylight has a way of squeezing through the photons twisting like they know your name Receptors…