sheepskin

Raised with the flock, it never occurs to him

perhaps the others never wrestle with his appetites,
cannot comprehend his bloodlust;
find true satisfaction with the pasture
as he could never.

The shock and the fury, the terror in their faces
when he grins, when he digs his claws in deep;
their weakness in trouble, bleating fears he never felt—
all mysteries to his fanged mind.

Carefully; carefully; he hides his fleeceless hide
to stay in places he detests with souls he loves.
But one dark night with reason to growl
the clothing slips as he bristles to protect
—the shepherd raises a holy staff
and sends him tumbling into a moonlit exit.

Now he will sulk in shadow and in shame
but never let them come to harm; this promise
he howls to Luna, shivering their honest spines—

He’ll wander on, never far
but never in, never fed,
never loved, never safe:
ever watchful over the flock
he terrifies and loves.

5/05/23

mountain views

i just want to watch

slack-eyed and damned
irreversibly languid yet
alight--hot coals under my soil--
was i once a rock? and did it split?
perhaps it melted; i feel now
the impassivity of a mountain
without the grandeur, of course--
let me Watch, goddamnit!
some innocent activity taking place
a child's play, a stock trade, an art show, an arcade,
just anything--any human thing--
but once here i cannot stand it,
no take it away, hide me
in some mountain spring's dark cave.
redemption dances lightly away,
love forever fingertips out of reach,
even watching cannot conjure
whatever tendril of the past i was looking for.

4/23/24

Upon Arrival

the silence ringing in my ears

demands—demands—
shouldn’t i be doing something more?
(once upon a childhood
streams burbled in these ears
and the empty afternoons
warm with buzzing
smelled like moist soil)
but dry-faced imagined tears ask what else could I have done
and what now—what now—
is there for me to do?

3/13/24

Requirement for Breaking Things

i cannot get far enough away

to stop pretending i am celebrating
and find out if i really am

the promise of her eyes flickers
neon sign in a dirty convenience
in dark flashes i see a ghost reflected
but—we leave the lights on

i cannot rouse myself
shattered pieces all around
exhaust me with requirement
before i even make a move

the shadows do not satisfy
but cringing at her touch i think
how can this be anything else

2/20/24

when i tried

too many thoughts all cream and static
even if i never write them down
remember when i tried so hard
he shifts away from the campfire smoke
(as if) i admit
cream like ashes, cream like oatmeal
static like TV, like a stone
which to his snow-bank white in-motion
righteous clear-eyed idealism seems—
as he settles in his new seat,
campfire smoke following suit, (as if) i
say nothing whatsoever
but remember when i tried at all

1/31/24