Poetry Archives Bio

Walk

December 23, 2021

Today is shortest.
Outside, chaos. Sinew spills;
Centripetal lines fray.

There is nothing here
Which to fear.
All roads lead to lead.

At sunrise, you give tours
Of polis life. We pass
Spines embedded in stone.

I peek in windows where
Shackleton takes curb to bin.
Sound travels; you traipse in barefoot.

Trains pass.
I LIKE THESE SHOES.
I LIKE THESE SHOES.

I LIKE THESE SHOES.
I LIKE THESE SHOES.
We carry on.

There is no death.
Charlie begs for gravel.
He wags his tail and chews.

Voice tells me, "I can hear
You counting my feet."
I imagine

Tension you can bite,
Stanislavski as mother,
Fire at Swan Lake Estates,

That man on news who dug out
With knife what he thought
Was dark secret out of arm,

Haggard fences that smoulder in sun,
Laconic ka-rumk of fabulous shell
Crushed under foot.