Postcard Prisoner

Woman framed in cliche,
Hallmark edged, her eyes close
against yet another pearl button moon
in dark damask.

She has no razor-cut wrist
or white elephant in her cupboard,
but her cheeks are stained
with reflection from the scarlet poppies
that strangle her hair.

The Horses

While babies dream
their milk dreams
and nightshift workers
nose home behind
yellow, stalk headlights
I make my way along the sidewalk
through wet knots of grass
to where they wait.

Twin Bogarts
in canvas trenchcoats,
they lean into each other
close to the fenceline,
nostrils fluttering.

One is not quite black-
dusk, brushed with gold.
The other is fiery chestnut
fringed with amber.

They chaw the carrots I offer
and share with me breath
of sun-toasted meadow
and secrets gleaned from ancestors
on distant plains
as stars wink out in the dawning.

Monkey

Monkey face, bone faces,
and fleshy faces

look from side to side,
comment and look,
pick teeth with tiny pointed sticks,
hands covering mouths.

But it's the laughter that spooks.
That and the way their eyes slide
from side to side
that shows them to be android -
mechanoid.

once

once there were many here,
crowded together on this little hub.

one by one they unhooked
to tryst with wind serpents,

leaving only a pale nub
to mark the place they held.

how they fill me with stars -
fade to fractals of smoke and dissolve.

dancing rings linked
to the next spiral of energy

inception

A gamete is a mixed anatomy
of pastels and crimson,

formed
among the brightness of angels.

Life a vague jazz
that may or may not take hold -

soft shades of sand,
sparklers writing their names with fire

where darkness falls
inside itself.