4 Poems

Mascara

I’m pulling off trains track by track
There are purple emissions above my head
Each of her lashes are brown dewed with black

The Martyrs song is sung by the lamps
And the mosquitoes fear to go
The air stained wet by the look of mascara drips
Her cheeks pale white rusty amber
Encased in my pocket is the thing
Tarnished from generations

The streets tiled brick
The alleyway home to great calamity
A century brought change and sanity
On the eve of a revolution the low candles burned
On street posts without glass pyramids

The wind had taken those candles to gas emissions
Aside from the dewey after-effect
The wind would not reach them.

Henry

Inside the rail stood patient Henry

Holding out can for duct tape donations
She brought back two dimes
The southbound beeped, beeped and laid him down flat.
Before the caboose had arrived
She held him in the shadow
His head had gently fallen over the tracks
His will restored: nothing.

Plane Ride
When we embarked over the sea
The trees had taken a dip
The garden was open to the future

Each part of the system had been broken
Her feet dangling above the trees
The long-faced noun had jumped them
Scaring him into submission

Outside they knew a place called “twenty-four bridges”
The rumor had persisted
Our global reflex persisting
The moon no longer resisting
Her smile dim and fading
The other night I performed the scissor
We pasted her face inside the oranges
They brought her a migrant to beggar
Each time we stopped along the river her head would pound like a trigger

Each night I lay awake happier in courage he
Walked with the lions

Each time would bring harboring sick and forgotten
The truth of the matter
Is less than scattered but equally important is what comes out after

The river would hover inside her dark shadows
Unusual odors had ignited his mattress where mares stood glowing
Perplexed and ignited to join in the garlands of beautiful magic
She would not hold onto the any(one’s game).

Animal Packs

The bouquet stacked seven to one
The wolves packed under stone

Rumbling

Empty notions hover above the street
The dry drip and drap bone lick
Of flesh and birds setting off wired silhouettes

Sway

Priests huddled for air shoving
Heat piled on stretching out to space
The sonnet of roses wilting
Protecting the elements
Like a soul warmed under radiated beds.


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