snowfall

you captured my longing
my desire
for cold mystery
for swirling stimulation
cerebral satisfaction
for the geometric perfection of the flake
that is unlike any other

I fondled your uniqueness between fragile fingers
of hubris
of deception

you are my dripping dream
of brittle death

my heart entombed
in a frozen reflection of itself

you are winter
the snowfall that reminds me of home

the wheels roll out
as white wings flex their metallic muscles

I fly through your blizzard
until I am
above you
beyond you

and when I land
I find myself in a place
where the season has changed

autumn in me

cucumber and bread sit with me on a bench
we do not touch each other

sunlight presses on my back
eyes shaded by the sparse stems of the locust tree
whose green has not yet turned to honey
thick with water and light
thriving in the harshness of autumn

emerald leaves laughing at unfortunate company
at trees with veins closed to nourishment
leaves who have lost their color
who will not grow
who find comfort in dirt

withering

dying

falling

sunlight presses on my back
seeking shriveled veins

of late maturity
of incipient decline
of inanition
of autumn in me

coffee

Frothy lips
Heat touches my tongue
I taste sweet

There is dust below my feet
Brown beans and cake crumbs
I look above my head and imagine the ceiling is the floor
Virgin slats of unscuffed pine
that is my mind.
Lights beneath my shoes
My body aglow
My head is a burning bulb

Everyone here is staring into their own heads
On computers and books
On screen and paper worlds
Silent solitary voices simmering
Grinding thoughts
Tamping ideas
Brains reaching boiling point
Dripping history
Dripping poetry
Dripping politics
Dripping emotion
Dripping their minds
Dripping coffee
Into a cup
Into a world

Drip drip
Onto the floor
That is the ceiling
That is my world upside-down

Frothy lips
Heat touches my tongue
My lips are sweet milk
My tongue is earl grey
I warm my hands on a mug of tea
Remember her bitter lips
And wonder what it would be like to drink coffee

this tree

hanging upside down
arms dangling, knees bent
eyes bright
wind

i love to swing from this tree
hanging upside down
arms dangling, knees bent
eyes bright
wind blowing my hair
wind stinging my eyes
wind lifting me, carrying me
i love to swing from this tree in the empty lot next door

walking home from school one day
Bruno escapes from the fenced-in backyard across the street
Bruno is a Rotweiler
Bruno is mean
Bruno is chasing me

i drop my bookbag
i am running
i am running to the tree
my hands reach for the branch
the branch i love to swing from
Bruno's warm flesh touches my shin

"crack" goes the yellow bat
Bruno's teeth clench the plastic
my father's arms are flexed
i can see his veins buldging
his eyes are wide
he is afraid
his neck is sweating
Bruno's tongue drips sweat
they growl at each other

i am hanging
upside down
arms dangling, knees bent
eyes wide
the wind is blowing my hair
the wind is stinging my eyes
the wind is lifting me, carrying me
i am safe
in this tree

walking home from school one day
i hear the sound of metal on concrete
i smell the scent of grass and dirt
the lot next door is not empty

"crack" goes the yellow truck with claws
it is scraping away everything green

i drop my bookbag
i am running
i am running to the tree
the tree i love to swing from
my father's arms are lifting me, carrying me
i cannot see the tree
i see my father's neck
it is sweating
the wind is stinging his eyes
his eyes are wet

my father is lifting me
my father is carrying an axe
his arms are strong, they are bulging
i can see his veins
he takes me to the tree
it is small
i hold the tree in my hands
it glistens in the sun
it smells of shellac and permanent marker
it reads "my climbing tree" above the date

the tree is small
i cannot climb this tree
i hold it in my hands
"it is safe," he tells me.
he places the wedge of tree on my bedroom dresser
my eyes are wet

I am not hanging upside down
arms dangling, knees bent
eyes bright
i am not safe
in this tree