Beats a Little Faster
there is a tension
in your black silken ankle
that ripples up
apple butter calf
to curl and vibrate still.
your thigh.
Twin Peaks: A Requiem for Annie Blackburne
through smashed innocence he ran
slickly and black brightly
“How’s Annie,” he said, “How’s Annie”
(a face curving yellow and sharp
in the mirror.)
and the future framed itself
upon the wall
in the rich dark stain
of redwood and sycamore,
and of cedar trim.
epilogue: stained sheets
the rose colored dawn spills
into the empty
rumpled
bed.
Metaphor
With tethered jaw
and clockwork eyes,
Chuckle Jim went on
composing epitaphs.
Lois Dreams
In solid primaries, geometries.
Facile tact ticks across his face
as he lifts her with a look,
and holds her to the moment of this place.
This silence like a finger pressed
to the lips of a vestal virgin,
gently ravished by promises.
He flies away – leaving blue hope
and tears of crimson.