visions in the dark

the moon is lit
for the benefit of roots
leafs and things extinguishing light low
on the ground
the rocks fluoresce nearly
the contrast to the black understory
is blinding so we hop from rock to rock
staying clear of the grabbing sticker vines
sawing at ankles and toes

swamp things

the colors of a swamp
are arrayed in an indeterminate spectrum
at the bottom is brown water over black muck
frogs green tallow-yellow black brown and shining
wet is the name of the game unless its above the waterline
dry granite island bones and bleached sticks
deceased trees bitten to be horizontal
now the bridges over shallow water deep mud
cut grass adding a bit of fresh blood

first world problems

on the dock
the big heron stands idle
pondering the existence of fish
deeper in the water than a heron neck

the merry go round
ate my sandals
spun faster than
I could handle

tomatos

sitting beside me
a box of tomatos,
skin covered in a dirt haze
waiting in the shade
for ripe to bite

observances

the snow is soft
when it falls to earth
by the will of its seriousness

but at a clip
in the eye
it is as much the same
as tripping and falling
face first down an ice
berg facade

under the microscope snow
has edges and jagged
fangs that may be soft on the tongue
but bloody the ungloved hands

iconic reverence

paul revved his engines
the hours it took
to reach the heavens
eyes trained to look
lamps lit by the sea
to see which way they be
marching or rowing
towns heavy with sleep
hearing the echoes of flying feet
running riding sparks going

non-linear fits

what fits you like a pear of pants
an apple of doubt
and a peach of remorse

the traced ellipse
a surface remis
to feel teeth
protruding from gums
soft as the fruit rent

time is money
money is time

mine is honey
honey is fine

slime is funny
funny is nine

nine days later
its later in time

oval faculties

on the back road
the tar treated pine beams
8x8x8 or so slowly
evaporate in the hot sun
and descend down
to mix with the sour air
and acid of crushed crab apples
visited by feet, tires, and flies

three under water

terns taking turns

cutting hyperbolic chords

cambering up around down

the only bird
to whom flying
does not seem
a chore rather
a matter of act

two under water

the night rises from the deep
pulling the light from the sky into
the dark green zebra flecked mud
and from under there glows above
everything white ghosting
giving off a diffusion of fingertips
swimming on the back of sun black hands

one under water

the extent of work is clearly labelled
on hands and feet rubbed raw by sheets,
wire stays, and pinched apart fighting at the tiller
pieces of skin lost in the breeze
drifting back in the chop
forever apart
who bleeds in the river