Monday, January 25, 2016

Getting In

Use the old tools and dig up the new earth. Then wash your hands and show me. Eat. Be alive. Then your house will quake. Stand on the ground where you saw what you needed. Focus on the lights ahead. Be the runner and the one who wakes up. There are no tricks. We just pretend we know what we're doing and then shout onward. This is the way to the best mess. 

Wednesday, January 20, 2016

My Head, My Fins

The cloud rolled away and I found my head. It was under the bristling conifers, wavering in the breeze. I had a frog and an orchid in my ears. They moved in iridescent green pathways through my oblong conundrum. I gyred and cawed. My eyes drew close to me with tears and a hurrying hound looked back. There was me, shuttled between planets, old and new. My hands and fins made tiny parabolas in the swim.