Living Iron

The sky scrapes on concrete, and
The seasons on skyscrapers.

The sun drowns daily in tired wastewater and
Strangers’ unmet eyes.

This wherehouse civilization, made of
Living Iron, all of us

lonely amidst multitudes.

Grafight

Raging, caging page
Blue bars binding
Red line rending

I shut the gray
Of the troubled sky
In you, on you
I dribble, I pour
Leaden reign.

Snow Day!

Snow day: a winter summer.

This Ache

Lungs grated on
Raw, raw air.
How can I breathe this?
I won’t! I won’t.

But my heart beats
Open my mouth.
Gasp only for more.
For more. For more.

We love this ache.

Forgiveness (Rancore)

A reluctant earth
Tilled purple black
With hard water—
I will not live in this garden.

This rotted apple
Against which I will not put my lips
I will not swallow its bruised brown flesh
So I bear a second mark

That is yours.