the attic poetess

the poem entered sharply
knifing around the
testicles

then slowly
groaning like a ship
moved up through all the organs
of the body

the letting off of flairs
and degassing of magma
continued all night

until morning bright
a calculus
arrived in the skull
as a cold ball of phlegm

O muse -
this withered body
cannot make love with you
like it used to

inanimated

the long gush
of appointments
bleed from my diary

i hunt to locate
one free day

and there i am
sitting alone
in a forest
on a seat
of pine needles

snow petals
perambulating down

in a camphor bowl
two gingko seeds
remind me
of extinct
friends

i roll them back and forth
to enjoy
the soft rumbling caress
of wood on wood

three silver eyes
dance
on a limb
their mossy feathers
tick, tick, tick

lowering the bowl
i try not
to move

it is excellent to notice
the moments
of elation
between
animation

apology of sorts

4K

a cat paws
slowly removing
its cape

there is a chance
they will meet again
out of doors

but only
if the cat doesn't let
the velvet lizard

escape

plosm

the pine splits and
termites tumble fast from
the fat faultlines

i wish i could fix
the sawdust railings
with my fastigata

but hovering between
devas and devils
like an aquarian
crafty and sublime

i remain subdued
and sing instead
to an ember
in a sodden heart

later in the halflight
i am caught
re-ordering the library

only lies sustain the task
like this book, this boat i launch

a career in the services
would inure me
for the uneven ritual of the sea

taking up my things
a ballpoint pen
tumbles childishly
into the waste basket