Assorted Small Poems

Dust gathered
in the corners
of his dreams.

He stumbled
into knife fights
armed with a dictionary.

Space walkers without helmets
scrape stars
from between their teeth.

A fire
in the theater
of the mind.
All my thoughts
run for the exits.

He wore clouds to bed and woke up in a fog.

She was no cougar,
she was saber toothed
and skeletal.

Earth fell to meet him
as he slept:
by the shovelful.

Her home filled
with pastel bric-a-brac
set on lace doilies,
any Y chromosome
wilted in an hour.

Barn swallow
silent gliding circle
tuning fork tail

Mizzling rain
glazes slick.
The world walks
in a careful

I drift between languages
describing her,
not understanding
the words
or her.


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