Lament
Flaming thoughts of sacred infractions,
Delicate lines of a spider’s thread,
Milk pale phantoms of familiar conformations,
Vast libraries of words unsaid.
Liquid night, foreign and odd,
As color draining from the face of God.
Where now is the bright gaze, and the smile burning?
Warm sinews of fabled strength never returning?
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Lament
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Rock Lined Pockets
See the alarm in the shark’s cadence,
Hear the sharp seagull’s cry:
The merling king has come! The merling king has come!
Jellyfish floating around his cloudy crystal crown
Like translucent passive thoughts of aggression.
Will he forgive your primate indiscretion?
In his court of slime and rock sublime
He beckons you with open tentacles
to join his circle of hedonistic companions.
The mermaid is a murderous creature.
The dolphins are wanton and wild.
What’s that in your pockets? The inquisitive mollusk asks.
Rocks.
Of the precious kind?
No.
His soft limbs curl back in plain disappointment.
From under a shell a faint voice cautioned,
Do not trust in the soft bodied rogue’s trade.
Down here the written word is as fleeting as the spoken one.
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Rock Lined Pockets
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