utter

i
 hope
 my
brain was better
 fodder
 for your heart to collapse around
like a cannon blooming

i
 hope
 my
eye was a signaller
      revving up singular
             sightless propulsion to push you through water
                                         and up through the surface
i hope you resurface
  again
    and again

i
    hope
 my power
 gave your wings powder
 to flutter majestic
to shimmer
 to utter
       collecting in air,
all around and up under
 enough to mutter,
 to glimmer, projecting
the health of the letter,
 the warm eyes and better

baby

fighting the helpful feeding, 

as you batter against the window, 

I can't hear a thing you're saying,

I cannot feel the weight of your hand,

you are a cut away before a big reveal,

you are a throw back to a complete circle,

so uncomplicated, lapping at your own shore,

rings of incandescence, like an endless sleep, 

I can't hear a thing you're saying,

I cannot feel my feet sink in sand,

and, as though I'm being cradled lower and lower,

and, or, as if you could be an anchoring influence,

you are the keeper, holding me by the ankle,

you are dipping me into the river,

which returns to its own source, 

lapping at its own shores, 

welling up a little,

 trickling from its open mouth,

stuck up in a high chair,

fighting the helpful feeding. 

best laid

I had it all lined up like dominoes,
rows upon rows, all ready to go,
spring boards for propulsion,
fingertip destruction,
 I felt like Hillary Clinton.

I was to move from one point to the next
to the next to the next to the next

I fell asleep with a map of plans,
playing out perfect,
clicking onto each other,
knocking their next best down,
I woke up with a mouth full of vomit,
that is how it goes.

Poetry Reading

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