Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Why does the taste of pennies remind you of losing a tooth?

I wasn’t bled from the sea
The sky bled me, opened
her clouds,
her wounds
And spitting and coughing in grays
and bruised violets gave birth
you see the sunset
was always
meant to be for a waning
and waxing heart there’s the dark
with star strings attached
to your fingers that guide your
hands to pet your hair
There, there
the tuna that whispered your fears
(yet unnamed)
now caress your toes (for a) while
you swim and you ache to join
the mammals on the boat
should have remembered the tides
and their rides to the shore
for waves won’t swallow you whole
if you allow yourself to float

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

it's 8° in Melbourne and I really wanted to stay in bed with you this morning

My new kitchen holds
wine stains and thyme
and my child fingers
dip into the pot of
the sweetest smiles
that friends shed
and it should be said
that your canny trick
of bringing my violent boil
to this fragrant simmer
is a crazy kind of beautiful
I’ve never felt so warm on
such an icy winters day
And I believe it to be true
that all the bees that
were buzzing in my bonnet
are busy making honey
for you