Tuesday, January 29, 2019

Erased by snow

To see the moon light up the mountain

of my breast, to feel the stars move

across my thigh, to read my fate in every single

sunset– to feel God in all that red and gold,

to hear seals bark below the pier, to walk

beneath the rim of passing cloud, to hear

the roar of waves at shore, to feel

the awe and sorrow mingle, to think of

winters come and gone, to think

of us alone together in the ground,

to feel that lazy decomposing, to sense

that we and all, then earth, erased

by snow,  to know the stellar streams will drink

the details we so love, to view it all

in twisted figures moving through my room, to know

this truth will not be buried, its roots will grow

more eyes, more ears that always know.

Monday, January 14, 2019

Cold skin

I don't want to think about it.
Stop this thinking
about the chill on my skin
after cold swells on this stinky
beach tonight.

I have touched cold skin four times.
There is nothing like it. Nothing
like the touch of windless death
against your warm finger.

A trick, you think.
Something flows below
that cold skin.
There's movement
and where there's movement,
there is      an engine.
And what is the soul,
if not an engine?