Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Sleep, Sleep

Sleep, sleep
Slip past the speckled sidewalk, the curb
the sunlight sprinkled over
trees and into shadows
Come into shadows, gray
and black and blue, come
into shadowed seas whipped
white whipped into froth
Where you and I are not
so different, you and I
are frothed obsidian, not
so different floating in the
fade. Sleep, sleep
and cover your face,
smooth your face, wrap
ourselves in seaweed to
cover our face, you and I
are not so different in
the seaweed sleep.

Untitled

I grow tired of Summer's
advances: heat and color,
flexing muscles
and thrusting hips. Give me
Autumn-- the musky sex
of season change,
wood-smoke and leaves just
starting to rot, bitter apple
bark in your hair, a lover
that slides a slick pumpkin
tongue between your teeth
and folds a sweater around
your shoulders. Give me
brisk dusk walks in
the near-chill, the damp
sponge of the earth,
absurdly blue sky.
Fields of leggy thin women
with hair like silk, all
bending together at a
turn in the breeze.