Poetry Archives Bio
September 14, 2019
2:50 PM
forty six million minutes

To Sophie Grace Shields

confounded by space
the fly buzzes and thrashes
and hits the glass

the feet up on the roof
it must be crows

I lie in bed  entirely still
observing you
observing and absorbing

your arms' callous cuneiform
the straight edge of your nose
the curvature of ass that leads to—

I close my eyes
and contemplate all those
whose lits I'd ever ticked

from the main land
the wind bloweth

i awake again

tankers like black beetles
sit on steel tracks
a seagull eats a dead crow
deer run

i watch your tortured brow
I pass my hand over your
         heels like white elephants

a seagull eats a dead crow
a squirrel clambers up the leafy tree
dashing down hopes and dreams

i relish my madness

then you awake
slowly come unsplay'd
unspooling horizontalwise

we dress
procure our coffee
forgive each other our trespasses

we read the day away
or in a haze dissolve

as the staccato of my smith corona
unsettles the order of things

at the back of the property line
where snakes slither unseen

I'll cut a path into the bushes
with sequiturs

while you will stain your mouth
with darkred juice
as you are strip't by thorns

at dusk
the city gates will open
and we  the two of us

shall resume our commerce