i’ve tasted afternoon

&what light can do, –
shedding dust,
revealing just how much of
a sequined party is going on,
when all i can do is pass
unauthorized green veins,
pink husks invisibly through it
–heartbreak hands never
quite catching the light;
stirring the catalogued years
of wheat fields waving.
gold is the color i taste.

::

for Twiglet & Real Toads

WhIte WInd’s My FavorIte

The whIte of the wInd Unleashes my Head
 aNd I am Drunk. my skin turns to sIlk.
 I'm the scent of sweet grasses. SImple.
 Christ wraps around me. noT unbIddEn.
 spIrIt laps my Face lIke an unblinking I,
 or a lash pressed upOn me. I pay attentIon.
 Tornado I say, Pour wIld. Pour easily. Pour
 Gold &daIsIes. thOUgh I am undone, tHough 
 I am unHInged, & dISheveled I trust my ear
 & leap. BodacIous. In motIon. In whIte
 nOIse. whIte lIght. I'm so close to helpless
 I'm pErfEctIon. There's no dIsguISing
 the featHErs. there's no dIs-GuIsIng the
 dancIng starfIsh whO sInG I love you! aNd
 as rIdIculous as our encounter Is, out back
 In my lAWn &garden chaIr, I rEally mEan It.

for dVerse poets

Good Things

in a cool dry place
i pour my fortune
like hot sauce over
bamboo, or ketchup
over hot dog.
it’s the year of
red rooster
(clang)
the year
of natural color.
i break the foil
and get on with it,
remembering good things
and the number three.

for Quickly