Have you seen The Yellow Sign?

Assorted Poems

by the sea sing to me o pallid river o broken body o crimson hound hold and break o pallid river I sing to you I sing to you untitled 2 A threshold that would suckle broken flesh, bones, and the rest. a dream i had once im sitting in the reeds i think the stars hate me or they dont know my name and sing only yours bad night but i write and i think in each of those words i hope to find you or speak of you or speak to you i unfocus my eyes, look to the periphery, like i taught myself to look for figures in dark you're not there either 1st law and claw the ash from my eyes to see no flicker of flame only your silhouette eclipsed and it ...grows grows grows grows grows grows grows... in a perfect system there is no loss of energy only conversion to bile at the back of my throat and then back to you grows. You unfurl forever in this moment, shattered grows. reformed I inhabit the space between two perfect frames to wonder if I will blink and see you To know that again i'll stand Skylight The audience is small tonight Open the skylight Don your mask (three faced) Dancers move in furtive arcs Honey fissures from their eyes Remember the words Daub them on your skin In the quiet breaths, when their legs alight the ground, I can almost hear the buzzing Lone violinist each note a call to fury Wings vibrate behind my eyes, too fervant to ignore One of the dancers stumbles Falls. To his hands. To the ground. The others, Do not pause. Applause. it is kind to know the taste of honey. To change Let light burn through. In the fire. Spires? Illuminated in silhouette You will get so much brighter still. Ever brighter behind your eyelids - let them burn. fall away. So much brighter, ever brighter. Speak the words that burn and melt and change. Bones burn and melt and reform and change. a promise in the way you arc, in its hollowness the mold by which to be reforged a promise in the bite of molten steel the words you spoke like heat and pain Tidepools Im scared that im the fish your dad points out to you when you're 8 on a family trip (the last) to the coast. Dead, drying in the sun. Maggots already churning, aching, as partners to a final dance. Did it know? Or does it hope, that with each wave each triumphant wave that lifts me so that I may nearly glimpse the sea, that i will return from this mirror Or Did it too, never learn better, did it ever hope falling each time upon jagged rocks and wonder how the sun could seem so distant Untitled stone tombed it sleeps feel it in the gentle hum of earth spires of stone ache toward hollow sky begging a final congregation huddled silent mass without preacher nor bishop music in their curves and fire in their fissures mold myself to them, their perfect example skin to stone bone to purpose heart to faith rain erodes doubt, time rends fear reach toward the sky sing the song in the hum of eternity wait for it to wake