I like the way the water seems to go the right when the wind comes in from the east.
And when I look up and squint, I’m reminded subtlety of a winter’s tree.
Barren branches just at the top and a bird giving a low, lonely call.
Within a second I’m reminded of where I am.
A place where the screeches of mowers are never-ending and the sun always shines.
The longing always remains though— to have a break from the heat and for it to be so quiet that I can hear the falling snow.
please lift me, lift me
the worms are making their way
into my nostrils as we speak
please fix me, fix me
bones are broken, can barely crawl
I am so weak
please save me, save me
soul left, sin eating me up
I’m not complete
please forgive me, forgive me
dreamt of your Moses last night
as if in a deep sleep
you just let him go
he went the opposite direction
down the stream
smiling amidst the sparkling water
that was taking him away
they found him by the bank
and loved him
but I spied and watched him grow
your Moses was brilliant
you would have been proud
Everything he told me was a lie.
The bits about the winter, his past,
his apparitions.
Even that story of him skating
fearfully on the ice
Before he blacked out to
Dream about her.
Lost and crying in Heaven.
Everything he told me was a lie.
may God bless all the delicate
creatures that will hold your hand
in their impossibly strong grips
and shed glimmering tears
as you admit you’re afraid to
take your last breath
place their long sweet-smelling
manes over your eyes
so that your last thoughts
are of beauty before you die
they pulled you out of the water
pale and grey
wind blowing on your blue dress
still clinging to your skin
your eyes stained with sadness
so mad to be saved
the cruel rope still embracing you
I ran to you and knelt
tears fell like stones
crushing my heart
each eager to remind me that
this love is not for the faint of heart
we can’t help it
this lot is haunted
with those ancient ghosts
so undecided
they can’t help it
all their fighting
with those old hurts
so resided
in a place where dogs are barkless
and children lose their screams
prowls a figure, much like those
shadows that play under your bed
he creeps in and around without notice
smells your lipstick and then
slinks back into the dark
poor little baby, you bit your tongue
chewing on all that hatred.
was it horrible? did it cut your throat
when you swallowed it down?
did it try to climb its way back up, and
make you run to the bathroom to find
an empty stall?
poor little baby, you broke your finger
pointing it and flipping them the bird
that was carrying all that ill will.
did it break free and flee?
perhaps fly away somewhere quiet to
rest on a snow-capped tree or
a glowing, warm palm.
poor little baby, you failed the test.
The Tape House 