Paper airplane
that’s landed in your lap.
The lines are mine,
pressed together,
but the point they find
is ever you.
Tag Archives: love
I love a fishbone tree
Draw a sailboat in a circle:
I’ll sail you to the sea.
Give me your triangles,
your loopy clouds,
your beach-stick fire
with swoopy flame:
we’ll squiggle up in happy smoke –
you won’t regret you came.
Actual mail and land lines
I know. But still
when I called I could see you there.
Our voices traveled intact,
they weren’t disintegrated
and reconstructed by Scotty
at the bridge. Mine came to you
through a walkable wire —
I could follow it from my house
to yours — and yours didn’t move —
and I could see you there
in the angle of light in the hall.
I had all that that was solid. At least
that much of the picture was clear.
What kills love?
There’s word of a pollen borne
by migrating birds — of a wing-
and wind-driven affliction.
One cedes possibilities of nitrates —
what are they again?
marching to strangle key arteries.
I’ve tried fans, I’ve tried blood-
thinners. But dogs will die
and rabbits will fly
ere I figure this out.
The way to you
Had I but had
a picture of that
I’d trace the path
that runs from shore
to the steps
to the porch
to your front door
Sad pantry
My love for now I leave unsaid
for want of love to back it.
Who robbed my heart of winter store?
Who’ll love for I who lack it?
What’s the sense of your magnificence?
Can you fix me in the flame?
May I wake to you
From this slow, slow vertigo
Father and son one
Hearts tricked apart
Verily
and – for shame!
unnecessarily
Utrecht Journal 