Sunday, May 22, 2016

inviting the sun

it’s been less than a day
since i invited the sun into my home

there’s a fullness
to my mansion
now that she’s here
time is tighter
i want to feel her presence forever
in a year I will hear her
running from the lions in the basement
clear and confident
dancing below her long arms
and flying
across the sky

in the morning
she will stand by a swing set
laughing under an erect sycamore
her hands full of vanilla and garlic

in the evening
she will sit on a far-off subway train
different from any other thief
stealing a remembered invention

she will drop her feet
frown skeptically
and curl her slim toes

i will curl away from her

Sunday, May 15, 2016

Word Hoard

I cling to words,
   collect them, pile them,
     scrounge them from the rubbish.
I cannot let them go -
  yours, mine, the world's -
Every one born of a perilous, toil-filled journey
  along spark-ignited neurons
    through the larynx off the tongue into air,
     through the sinews touching fingers tapping keys
       falling into the black hole of the machine and 
Coming out the other side to rest on the page.

Earthlings, our world overflows with words!
  We cringe as we craft them, battling to build,
     struggling to sculpt, stringing syllables like beads.
We feed one another on their milk.
   We weave them into strong ropes to rescue
      or to hang.

How can I bear to throw away a single one unread?