There is a gremlin who
In my stomach, sits
Kneading swollen knuckles
‘Gainst the walls around him.
A purpose he once had:
Protecting from the ills
Of prehistoric
Curiosity.
Crying
What Do
You say when
You see
A stranger
Crying
?
nausea
There is a gremlin
Who in my stomach sits
Kneading his rounded
broad knuckles
Against some hidden organ
Put there to save us
From our own prehistoric
(or not)
Food curiosity
Haiku from Barbara’s 4/28
The cattail dances
Pulling its feathered shadow
Swaying unto dusk
Poems 4/27 part III: Read
Read
I stare at words
Ticks and scratches with hats and feet
Marching
My eyes dart
Laughing behind, talking,
Whispers, Phone
Ringing, I
Scream,
Tear the pages
Drown
It all out in
Muted rage.
Poems 4/27 part II
It is so easy
to get lost in the foreground
the infinite mesh of a window screen
the links of a chain fence
sometimes you look so hard things
lose their meaning, no frame
no definition, no perspective
the mind craves the epic
the open, the free and overarching
Poems 4/27 part I: Job
Job
We only wanted
What was best for him
Sometimes you need a little tough love,
Show you the error
Of your ways;
Yet he stood, stubborn
No repentance for that
Which he did not do,
Then God spoke
brought back his son Job
Denounced us.
Window Exercise 4/27
Foreground: The splash splattered sun against the hazed glass.
The screen a grid of wire, if you move close enough it dissapears.
Paint chipping, mummified insects sleeping in the eternal breeze.
The glass is streaked, layers of windows
Middle-ground: A servery worker wanders to and fro, pacing back and forth.
The grills are out and open and the cooks are joking,
There is a sad routine to it all.
Trees, and island.
Far-ground:
Mountains — a universe of ____, the rest of the world — outside the filmy shell of our bubble.