If it happened once
a stab in the dark
if twice
a pattern
If a pattern
fabric
if fabric
application
If application
a change of clothes
If a change of clothes
resurrection
You Run for the Sound
You run for the sound of God’s breath
like you’re chasing the last bird down a tunnel
and all you hear is the explosion of clattering wings
and the white extravagance of exhalation before
the blue inhale of living water
The Boy with the Bell
Back to your prairie sky
your traveling bag
your next move
Unexpectedly early for a meeting
with someone in a hurry
to see you
Back to your childhood sermons
your voice
the way you breathe as you climb
Rung by rung
back to the boy with the bell
that just keeps on ringing
the upright role of flowers
Hairy fields
the last dog like a knife
slicing home
One-hundred page glass book
hot wasps and tourists everywhere
broiling heat steaming through walls
His face is thrilled with energy
let me show you my vortex he says
my aim is water
Half-sleeping
wakes up out of his picture
he is taller than he remembers
Half-sleeping
resumes hesitantly
the upright role of flowers
one crisp flower
The weight of your body
like a pillow a dove
a peacemaker
My heart curves
my thoughts bend
and pivot
One crisp flower
the width of a star
plots my course
The symmetry of was
The symmetry of was
the memory of body
the last kiss that raped the future
Industrial
pedestrian love
it wasn’t
but fine
like a thread of honey
and rough as beard
That was a long time ago
(a stranger lifts a glass of wine)
‘to passion over power, to trust over fear’
to re-inspire the fresh cut flower
we plant her seeds
and wait a year
and then a year
and then and then
another
When, with dawn
and bare arms unfolding
she rises
the pattern of her limbs returns
the shape of her head on the pillow
and her smile
not careful now but
quick and wide
In itself
a portion of the sun