The Abraham effect

God presses pause just
before the autumn harvest;
No one's ever died.

It's not mine, nothing is.

Winter prayers of
your baby's crumbling temple;
return to me, love.

Froth on the sea

Green as our bloated
faces beyond the movie
screen, bobbing a head.

I Will

Toss the night off and
drape you across the sky like
a quilt on the moon.

...

Deep-sea fish sifting
through pockets of loose change lost
in the wash: You're thieves.

...

The men assemble
in nerve tuxedos, tendrils
goosing loose axons.

Forever

Enormous machines
drag the Earth up from the Earth,
toss it to the Earth.

...

The two of us stand
face to face with two more of
us. The knives come out.

Pride

In a mountain, in
the center, we dig outward.
But that's all there is.

...

Eyes burst open, reach
with branches toward plants that grow
off your short fibers.

My veins knot in all
anticipation of waking,
waking -- waking here.

1,000 years ago

Stomachs walked tight ropes
of gas and marrow. Birds pecked
at the hats and canes.

...

Laser beam smiles
cut through glass teeth and burn
through oaken tongues, lips.

Squids reach out to feel
and I bat them back with coats,
hats, shoes, socks, papers.

Safety Directive

When change comes, brace doors
and windows with wood and nails
and tape your mouths shut.

The sea knocks three times,
comes in for tea, smiles, then
gets lost in the cup.

Late October

Pavement curls up
around my neck to warm me
like some old cocoa.

I tell you again and again and again

The only honest
answer is the one you want
to hear but still can't.

...

Wash woman, can you
scrub me against the metal,
ring me on the wood?

456

The train goes slowly
up your nostrils and out, years
from now, your remains.

Sweet potato pie
melts across autumn's branches.
Close your eyes and chew.

...

Chamomile currents
rake our skin -- and I'm still
chasing the dander.

Morning

Cucumber belly,
freezer burn waist: I reach through
you. The frost tastes great.

Large fleets break through sands,
anchors dragging cacti to
the mirage up shore.

Please?

Something rips, ruptures,
and breaks: hold my hand as it
floats off my body.

...

Blood clots around strings
of your face, past and present,
a blur through the tubes.

orange

Burning finances
to remember the dead, your
shawl matches the wind.

Paper Decisions

With no choice -- but all
these choices -- I wonder who
gets to write my will?

...

I hurt my pelvis
when your bones tried to wriggle
their way inside me.

...

There was despair etched
on her limbs, salt harvested
under a full moon.