Messenger Bird

Backbend, babe, into the land of your shadow
Where my clever messenger bird does fly,
Sending my jealous love through whispering wings,
Singsonging your happenings like a spy:

“Long-haired rainbows dancing on all sides
Like waterfalls along the valley of his stride.
Drink! they sing, the sirens sweet, swift, & sly.”

My distant song trickles like a creek below,
And back home my hair grows roots deep & wide.
Oh! I will cut my hair, cast off your lust in the wind!—
Or braid a brunette noose of lovesick pride.

 

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The Cotton

Stole my tongue & spell book,
Shoved homegrown cotton
In my tear ducts,

Grew long my boyish fingernails,
Rooted them—all fucked up
In her backyard,

Sewed my wings to my ankles,
Set Meemaw’s tea upon my back
In the afternoon.

And she is crying?
Her baby’s come home!

I cannot cry now;
The cotton.

 

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Rebirth

Bright morning dark in the way that I think.
Wash down the drain with barely a blink
Remains of my Mentha Piperita in the sink.

(It died while they lied me down at Riverside)
The wet soil smell draws out water from my eye;
Dry roots reaching out to the memory of life:

Buzzing summer with my hands in the earth,
Green hope growing like the fruits of our work!
Oblivious I was dead ’til I remembered Rebirth.

 

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In the Glow

Buzz—the bee on my pillow
Was your voice in the Glow.
Always in the Glow!
Tap tap, Bright Eyes,
Are you real?

We speak through those hollow
Hearts turning a red glow,
So when I sing or you sing
We fall again into dreaming.

Blue window to blue window
Flecked with charming star glow—
Occasional turning storm—
A cold grey yet so warm.

Catch the bee on my pillow;
I always find you in the Glow.
Press the image to my throat,
Silent scream, defeated note.
If I knew your eyes bright
Out of artificial light—
Heel to heel,
Free to feel—
Are you real?

 

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Deep

Constant waves of words
Surge from your laughing lips
And crash against your chest,
Washing away the rescue—
Not a soul can touch you!

But I plunge into your mouth,
Hold tight my small breath.
Let the dark water take me.
Sink me in the lonely blue
Moon ripples like a starry sky
But even less ventured.

I listen to the distant song
And feel the crush of longing.
I know you are here,
Somewhere in the sound,
Floating in the deep.

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Dark Morning

Dark Morning
“… Like images in a puddle bent / Projected from the night.”

The misty morning haze
Paints thinly my coat
But kisses wetly my face
Unwelcome & contrite

And quite like a fuzzy mote
In the vision of the day
Floats dejectedly the sun
A lazy leak of light

And trees on the horizon
Hue muted & translucent
Like blue veins under pale skin
Rise then vanish from sight

And that dreary sun’s ascent
Queer’ seems to darken the day
Like images in a puddle bent
Projected from the night

 

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