Life from Death

1

The darkened eagle's iris
pitched into the blue of the sky,
scanning the thriving peripheries below.
Reflected off the ebon shield
of its unyielding stare
the great, wild world curved
below its hooked talons.


2

Gnarled and blackened oaks bulged
with tumorous, distended trunks
sunk softly sucking slowly up
the sweet spoiled meats
decomposing in the graveyard.


3

In this hungry dominion,
the desert hare is spared
from the red-tailed hawk
the hunter's gun has felled.

jinx

We are the blood of the tree
in the I.V. hook-up

--of course we intermingle
with the buried animals--

and the trees continue to shine.
We, the people stare

with pollination eyes
a tumbled nickel lands

tails, buffalo
you know what they say...

draw solace, my friend
from our living end

die, bitch

I secure a darkest vision.
I hold its hand as it walks down.
The cellar stairs lack precision.
In the dark there hides a clown.
It is smiling very loudly.
For look what it has found.

being yourself

hang on, like a skeleton's spider
dropping through trellises
to alight on a pelvic horizon
a halfsunken garden's marauder,
outliving the skins it sheds

it is very difficult unless alone

shed only once, it is permanently bright
revealed by degrees as the sand around it
is silently blasted away into a clear sky

think about how beautiful we must be

window

History As Told From The View-point Of The Panopticon

the complete eating of burned skin. ashen toast.
can it not warm my pie. i have lost my older
sufferings. absolve me of my gratitude. untie
the swift knots of my prayer, but don't merely re-
peat platitudes: for mimicry I do not care. environ-
mental disruptor persuades a hungry populace that
there is no such thing as the environment, and they
believe it. just as they believe that there can exist
more than one disruptor. these spun patients slow-
ly develop a bubble spell reality. their spin doctors
quickly form encrusted mica shells. all who they've
preyed upon then believe themselves to be a part of
their innermost circle. this describes how they are
each lost to the vortex of their own subconscious
imaginings; while one floats away as iridescent
soap bubbles flocking sun ward, the others
gradually incarcerate themselves under-
neath the prestigious carapaces which
never fail to drown them into the dirt.
dirt is very high on the list
of examination priorities.

Legacies of dust.

When thistles to a father
mean starlings to a tree
the names of constellations
cease to mean a thing.

When war has subdivided
and sired many sons,
where grows the master
in whose trust we shall succumb?

Can a mistake be unlearned
or must it be paid off in full?
We promised no one but ourselves,
with no one but us to lose.

In glacial focus warmed by ice
vaporous tracings lend device
to a precisely positioned skeletal hand
aiming a magnifying glass at the sand.

Erasing all traces and even memories
the names of relations disappear in the trees
the foggy invasions, the birds in the eaves,
the stars in the window, the whispers of thieves.