Poem 52 Revised

Oh! The Earth bursts out between these weeds

Feeds the trees, please return these seeds as I left them:


With potential. Holy holy incredible the decibel of husk musk matter

We are a splatter of star latter, what-ever with weather, we sometimes

Grow… didn’t you know…


I thought is so, to sew the seeds of my father’s weeds and wait

By the mounds with resounding sunshine. With enough love

We will grow.


And when we grow the soil knows…

To look for seeds.



Poem 52 Edited – Poem 52 Revised

Poem 3 Revised


Below letters
Beneath words
Seeking the mellow, yellow-green
Found softly fluttering
Southward through fields of cut grass.
bowed stocks of feathered dandelions
Words seek flight
Broad, taught sparrow wings
The wind whipping, fluttering flitting
Stripping worth, weight value
Voices seek words
Find letters. Deep puckered
Lips gumming nonsense
Hollow pockets of air
Sucking bubbles from seaweed bulbs
Floating up. up. up
Hush, the quiet comes
A breath across the bending stocks
All kneeling north with the
wind, under the weight of whim
Flightless feathered dandelions,
Only weeds.

Poem 52

for W who will be mine in four days

It’s the earth that comes up between these weeds
and feeds the trees, please, return just as you left:
Enamored. When you break and I’m broken
the weight of this accidental continental
drift pulls me away from myself and into
tremors. Truncate all the whisper-words
That meant more than sexual tension, though exotic.
When finally we came together and forgot misfortune
I found what innocence left in me to grow as seeds
or sprout like weeds: dancing infantile about the trees.
It was you all along promising happiness from sorrow
making wax candles of my worries, dip after dip…
When the seasons come together and reminisce of this
you and I will devour the sky winking of orbs and travelers.

Poem 3

On Finding Meaning

Beneath this there will be letters
And beneath letters, words
But words seek the mellow, yellow-green
Of meaning found softly
Fluttering southward to fields of cut grass
And chopped stocks of feathered dandelions

Words seek flight
In the broad, taught wing of a fresh sparrow
With the wind whipping, cutting, splicing
Through. Stripping meaning, worth, value

Voices seek words
But find only letters
The red, deep gashes in the flesh 
Of rippling limbs
Defeated and struggling
If only all the letters would bind to make a body
A fighting body, alas
Only a mamed carcus.

Above this there are letters, all letters
Maybe words to some ears, eyes
But no meaning. The lack of meaning
The lack of connections.
Flightless, castrated feathered dandelions.
Only weeds.


Poem 3 EditedPoem 3 Revised