Snail Jar

Its vision is of light and air
Breath drowning in silver light, hinged on
Sleepy shimmers under an eye
Rolled back against seeping white
Black shelved into the horizon
Where the stream puddles to pond 


Troubled is the old man, telling
Outside the door in the wolves steady howls
Shape fading behind cottony grays
Sprung and knocked over metal coils
A higher tide, soothed 
Shattering clay on rocks, pulled deeper 
In fleshy embraces, noise 
That sometimes sings of a better world 
Even out there, behind screens
And loosening rabbit ears 


Forgetting, in trembling clouds 
As punishing and soft as the gods 
Crumbling stony path, ripe fertile dirt 
Meaning in yellowing green, slithering
Gnawing, beastly boneless mouth  
Of the anti butterfly 

Untitled

Surrounded by pillows, we laid
Cupped in our quiet nest
Tented in white---
Your skin raising goose flesh
As it shivered under my hands
Your face passed over my shadow
Like tics on the mantle clock
Hard as oak, pierced in wet silk
No, not yet you, not yet
Till finally set free, painfully good
But reality apparently
The enemy of the dream