Three of my poems that were published originally by NNATAN but no longer available online
birds are burning,
& I’m walking with nothing but a snaking horn,
Singing photographs from silent stars
the camera of time’s tiny bones
partially buried backwards through the sound or rhythms
Missing from music.
When those birds
above their own flames,
Attempt to veil softly, reflecting any feather artifacts
closer to mine.
when we are blind:
Keep the birds clean,
& even angels won’t understand
The stampede of lost lambs tore into the painting,
lost limbs coloring the sky in Artaudian ecstasy
Filthy with desire,
So much stampede sky
drizzling into every sky we drink now.
The fallen chain link fence.
or sewn through
Under no stars!
A hymnal-less hymnal.
A flip book of photographs:
discrete, at least;
nine hours in the making,
Your prayers have been answered:
your boy has returned home.
Your childhood’s reality,
or your version of it, in another’s body
behind your eyes once he’s inside
(into yourself forever)
has returned home.
Where have you been, his sister asks.
the open hymen appears.
It sounds too much like your surname.
Sounds too much like