Cuss me

Shut the windows first

Unplug the guesthouse fan

We can sweat this out

In malaria land

Can’t you see it coiled up with my liver?

It has found its way around the booze and now rests deep within the cerebral matter

Laying contently in the back of my head

I am delirious

A woman dead. A child still waiting.

Thief Chapter

A continuation of, 'Wrapped in Thunder a Novel of Amnesia'

 I have underestimated August

Half sister to the moon that kills

Battle Mountain Nevada- town of masturbation and blue ribbon beer

Good for only one thing

To catch a train out of hell

 You thought it was love until you realized you hadn’t written in months. She had just about murdered your muse. You saw this one night when you stayed up and chain smoked, drinking the rest of the booze in the house.

 The sex was good but has now left you unsatiated

Plastic bags caught on a cyclone fence

This place of exhaustion

Night comes

Chapter of Angels

Dear You,

The seasons sometimes seem too long because I am unable to touch you. This fog and coolness come in and create a forced examination and deconstruction of night. There is excess in my longing and I hunger for your mouth in a way no one should crave another.

                                                                                                   -  Me

Chapter One

Railway Vision.

Fox in the chicken coup, we run across the field. The boy smells like sun and late wind. I sleep soundly when you hold me and when I sing to the stars they get brighter. Fox in the chicken coup.

Chapter Two

Which you must swim to - We take the apples from the old man's tree and don't feel bad because he never eats them anyway. We fall down and tumble through the neighbors orchard. That's the same day Lynnea fell into the nettles from the rope swing.

Later out at Dungeness we eat raw oysters from the shore, turning over grey rocks the color of  November.  A high fever showed me the spotted dancers.

Chapter Red, to be sung in Winter

Small Serpent, winged. Here are your antlers wrapped in Thunder.

Mother Trucker, the Chapter of Question

The young girl hikes up her skirt, shows her skinned knees to her uncle. They say I'm cold for saying this. I'm still thinking about that girl. I say it's dirt. There's incest and penetration in the air.

The galvanize roof, his Formica table, her Johnnie Walker. It's been decades and still she thinks her daughter is 9.

Blessed Chapter

Not just in a Blue Moon         and we made love secretly in Côte d'Ivoire

It does not matter what you use it for, just a little time left. Wrap me around lily's.

 I am the field

cane harvest

a scrapped sky

See how I fade with the hours

                                       years

                                    glances

                                      words

this is my palm

of a way

Some say