Site of Impact

Blood, smoke, caravan wreckage,
broken spokes and cadavers flecked
with grime and dust. The air stings
my nasal passages and brings back
memories of ancient cities built
under overhanging cliffs.

I wade through sludge and silt,
witness to an inevitable rift,
the inescapable entropy of a
natural disaster. I walk faster,
trying not to look back. I am
a wanderer; I must
move on.

Ad Libitum

Overarching ochre giants
peering through slightly smudged glass
remind me I’m not in class.
Not quite the woods, but not standing alone,
a brilliant boscage swaying in the
ebullient breeze. I hear the phone
ring but I don’t pick up.
I am hostage to the now.

Mendigo

Mendigo,
swimming through fresh water.

Friend or foe?
The king’s only daughter.

Beggar king, beggar fish,
beggar daughter,
swimming through fresh water.

Van Gogh's Ear

Van Gogh’s ear didn’t mean much to me
until today. I saw that maybe another man
had cut it off, his former friend Gauguin.
In these days I don’t ever think you’ll see

someone cut off someone else’s ear with a rapier.
To me, the thought of those two foe-ing friends
is quixotic. Couldn’t they have settled it with pens,
or brushes? Ink is nothing but blood on paper.

Even For an Eggshell

Ribcage split, butterflied,
cleft chest caved in, he died.
Smothered the blast like a
mother would smother her child.

On battlefield lay stacked,
flak jacket cracked in half.
Lungs choked, blood rose,
empty-eyed.

Forever Young

What profoundly depicted the dread of our imminent doom
has become now the soundtrack to meaningless beverage ads.

Naevus

Written June 23, 2008:

Hello, naevus,
my identifying feature.
Others come and go
but you will always be here.
Always benign, you will always be mine,
year after pigmented year.