Some right some new
grew cavalry
I do not have a heavy foot of gravity
To plight climate with money,  breeds
leave the glass buildings for idols and Thieves
let the spurn of my childhood taste like ***
and mint leaves
The sun never excuses its insolentry
I guess for death sins that never leave
All my sister, her rhymes
That enlist her

S O L  I  T A R Y

It was a downward trajectory
Like poetry
Sifting the salt from the universe
Forging the faces of her and me
Adrenaline bands, the Kuiper belt
Argonaut planets beginning to melt
The atmosphere, our feathered slip
My sister’s tired, losing her grip

I N ST I T U T IO N

My grandmother’s hands twitching,
Neglected
Winds, they anticipate interaction
The elected
Words they carry
Like Vericose, Pulmonary
She’s scared, these
Hours... they mean more presently
Not patty cake or finger paint
But moons of Jupiter, Saints
Relax, the next breath awaits
I miss your Angel Food Cake
And my bare feet in your creek
And scooping crawddaddies

The great lung stirs us
Small hands shaking rocks
Let the rhythm distill us
Beneath waves that froc

Hunters, smiling
Hone spear heads with granite
And gunpowder; and artillery
Dear God, why give us a planet

How to build a boat from tree
How to leave the sands
How to turn the oars, free
The great lung, of clouds, demands

Some narrow lilac, some feathered breath
some moment tread over with daylight,
with stamped cigarettes
The secret sanct of poets, intersect,  
*Sunset’s mother, cradling loosened
dandelions,
like Europa, sulfur ingénue,  hand woven clouds, tapestry *
I climb axe in hand like God’s mistake,
my dancing planet’s sands soaking wet
Time mishandling regret, respirations,
and Whiskey just takes and takes.

The universe addresses its skeleton
Tidal light reinvents her, beginning with the lips
Gravity pulls at the word: civilization
Reeds in the water kiss my fingertips
Night plays with rancor, bad blood
Newborns shiver between bristling thrush
She coos, her words new; scripture
Cocktails misspending memory in a rush

Stargazer fish, of tactile scope, a firm apparatus of sullen sail
taking on watercrest and nests in song,
in rivaling storyboards hoping children read along
of the pirate’s appendage, the moonlight, the claim rights
every night cries for a villaness to bombard
plunder,
scuttling poetry under
foamy humpback water melted from night sky,
arriving in tides named for our stride