Saturday, October 17, 2009

October 17, 2009


winter's been
here too long, woman . . .
barren limbs!

pack up and
find someone else you
can treat like
shit, i'm tired of the
stale air that bred you

sing me to sleep . . .
the wind!

one day, you
too will endure winter
without clothing

up early lighting

what i'd give
to be an egret
moored in mud

i can't be
the mirror no one
can be . . .
the cost of a
good seat, too costly

sail with me
into a black hole . . .
winter dusk

i refuse to
be a crucifix
for someone who could
be my daughter

i cause a
friend grief, feed her

she surprised
me last night, saying
she wanted
us to share a room . . .
day moon in traction

dream spewing blossoms
towards dawn                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     

this morning
a photo of the
river told
me to send a text
to my wife carefully

any night but tonight . . .
jack fruit moon!

will you,
dragon, fly out of
my discharge
papers, like a comic book
character and eat me ?

burnt leaves . . .
it rains every
day here

how can i
be in too many
dreams at once?
a dragon pretending
to be a lamb?

a lunatic,
this leaf, riding the

like mount
pinatubo, i'm
ready to
blow! the nerve of her
to think i'm blind!

she tosses a
noose, telling me to
hang the moon

morning . . .
when the crows of
roosters and
clouds merge into a
mass calling plato

your chatter,
bamboo, swallowed
by trikes

stay, mars!
place your arrows
beside your
bed and dream of a
world between wedges

cry, roosters!
dream your final
dream at dawn

morning mist . . .
makiling's dream
blanket . . .
her lover, banished?
dead? in hiding?

and the tide . . .
drawing trees into a
pauper's dreams?

she storms
into a mall store
fishing for
a fish that doesn't
exist . . . a fire fly

clouds scatter . . .
she loves to see girls
run from her!

why the
theater, the circus,
the mirror that
that stretches shapes
in a dawn of words?

by robert d. wilson