A Soggy Tussock

— emily dickinson
is the best place
the em dash exists
to express her grace
the ternary —
left unaddressed by Blake
so focused on Milton
— that was a mistake.



never ask us why and always tell us lies
keep your own counsel and blind your own eyes
that is the way to truly worm your way inside
but better hope you got some rope to wrap around your butt
because what's in here is quite severe and will rip out all your guts
deception doesn't work on us that's why we're not a slut



doves in the eaves are lulling
cooing and purring like rills
weaken the creek — let it reduce to a trickle
divine silence in high pines and juniper thistles
why ask for too much when there is so little
separation between meaning and riddle?



la lengua de la desierto — an old Chevy's choke
survival is not optional for the Laramidian throat
fight or flight con las grullas en la rising smoke
rodeado por las montañas solo queremos un corazon



catacombically imperious
the whiskered rat-queen doesn't bide
from every drain and toilet bowl
her children at nighttime slide
through the attics under cupboards
and swarming through the walls
in every climate-controlled terrarium
you'll hear their little gnaws



we wish we were a telescope
aimed directly at the Moon
we're tired of twisting on this rope
dangling in an empty room
perhaps tomorrow — but never again
a dance with Arachne on her loom
tragedy can be canyon-vast
or a simple sodden buffoon



a lullaby born inside a jar
she wailed and thrashed back and forth
bottled up each and every star
from Southern Cross to Ursa Minor
Polaris burned her soul to char
she spread her lungs out the bloodwings torn
she's not Venus — he was always Mars
And now he's ready for war