OVERLEAVES

Overleaf

A distant reflection cast with classicist leanings. 

I wanted to borrow that woman's eyes for a moment: 

viaticum for vestige. 

Overleaf

I am staring at you from across this page.

I am a cyclops with two eyes. 

The "Cy" in "Cy Young" stands for "Cyclone." 

I am a cyclone with two eyes. 

The Alphabet, in clusters, is jumbled in my gums. 

"On the double, let's go!" 

Overleaf

I see my great aunt sitting on the front porch fanning herself with long bony fingers. 

I still daydream of dozing off in a field of cotton. 

Every piece of cotton, like tiny cumulus clouds hovering inches above the earth. 

I must remind you that this poem is for you. 

This poem is a well-fed ox. 

Overleaf

How strange to see wood that would not burn. 

Old habits are kept like sunscreen that gets skin-deep; 

a re-charging of the body, as fresh as islands of green.

Overleaf

I watched a yellow butterfly flutter majestically over the top of a red car. 

Visions, stretched like dough. 

Overleaf

Is anything ever actually 100%? 

Overleaf

Too sudden our time slips away, like slashing off the heads of flowers. 

An oyster choking on its pearl. 

Overleaf

I could give you my knees. 

I want you to stand tall. 

I want you to hand me your arms as we witness the alpenglow sweep over the city,

like the tolling of a bell speaking of the passage of time.

Overleaf

The fervor of violence coupled with a thrust & counterthrust of the hearts of Men, thirsting. 

Spiritual throats swallowing all of the sorrow from their Tumultuous Whole. 

Overleaf

If our little lives are "rounded with sleep" why then do I keep awake like a giant colonnade? 

A fiction? 

A frenzy to be so alive like moods of Bach? 

Overleaf

I attempt to live in two worlds at once; each interpenetrating the other.

To turn a new leaf will be glossed at will. 

To tear a photograph out of mid-air. 

A work that is fragile & too quickly forgotten.