Monday, September 21, 2009

Small (fret)

Water painting rocks
in wet smooth laps
clouds turn to dogs
and back into clouds
again comes the train
whistling for something
long and low puffing hard
over a land that elastics
itself around

you are standing in a field
playing air guitar
lost in the beat of a track.

Monday, September 14, 2009

In

The clock drips 10:
17 lights below the door
begin to tremor

soon his footsteps
outweigh
she walks from room

to room switching off
everything that once held
light tenderly in

small -
small hands.