The sun fades in liquid quick ripples, disappearing
somewhere near the first step on the porch
while a wind chime plays, its crazy tune
as they hang, like torn out tongues, to view in
pinwheels of pink silver color, as they spin
Eyes or Ears
Bits of shell and slate
That have never fully
Been awake
Something that jumped out of a page or echoes
out of that lake, will you "hear us" the little voice
seems to say, as they violently twist to free themselves if they ever had a soul, its some leftover
lept over essence, a current holding onto life in wings
she carried them home, for their bones
but the house was just a space---
A small space you try to fit in, the dark place there
under the sink, that a child finds to breathe
then runs to pull and re-pull, shut the door
under and over, over and over
in some realm of an already forgotten dream
Never and Yes
She mothers a few tears, salt
In a dry plants dirt
A glow from a lantern,
Where everything is a branch
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