diaric, poetry

’23 a pity to stay the same

don’t you know/
‘twould be a pity to stay/

the same. there’s no time/
for that. busted. old. moot./

when you’re looking for Justice on streams/
but not time yet. when lake como is in the algo/

but not (why?) yet. and her mirror had pink waves/
framing it like the building with its hem lifted/

like a secret peep, a winking ankle at you/
and that was the doorway./

when the sun is in my commitments/
and your values get the shine/

when it’s analogue plush and dizzy bird digital/
– i’m the siren – the way you’re mine./

now you know.

diaric, poetry

I’ll quote myself this time

the soundtrack to my waking was j’ai été au bal
my night viewing is a nightingale luring a fox.

this afternoon, the historian referred to the wantons as rams in spring.
this afternoon of the phlebotomist’s atrocities.
blaming a baby for your carelessness. how dare you.
“her veins are too tiny”; you didn’t even give her bandages. how dare you.
you gave up halfway. on each arm!

stories in my stack: the moors, wives & children, cassettes of a growing voice
there’s an offer on the table.

when invitations are for the giving and the taking.

there are clues and you cannot hide them.

Photo by Shubham Dhage on Unsplash