her condition improves

of course
she will
accept the charges
and the trouble
of who she is
why do you ask?

look at our heroine
happily burning
too close to dry brush
oblivious to the fire risk
arrow pointing somewhere
between moderate and God

her skin is fire she’ll tell you
and it’s why she can’t stop
romancing her stone
notorious for speaking
soul secrets out-of-turn
sometimes known, then not

and her pencil’s a yellow union
candle flickering in her blue closet
setting a blaze to her crappy notebook
&you can watch her wench that candle
between wrong fingers, long
–but she’ll never apologize

unequivocal,
our lady’s chest
cavity brims with errors
a dangerous harmony,
a fierce compassion,
a divine spark

swirling, like the universe
she understands not everyone
will ask for a bedtime story
[parenthetically she scribbles
not everyone supernaturally bleeds
and doesn’t die either
]

::

for Real Toads

she circles

in softness
in un-

expected math

she’s a break from
the
flicker

(carnation of stars)

is she hair, is she air,
is she eddies in the

night?
you think about daffodils
you think about light
you want to brush

her arm
in extended fluidity

reach for a pulse
tucked under her knee
now hug-held
closer to her chest

::

playing sort of another Moon card
as imagined in Starry Night for RT

diamonds

of sweat
ooze from every
single country
represented
on her face
she is raw,
she is unkempt
she is beyond
becoming complete
un-doing traditional
bounds of beauty
as it may,
Israeli,
Palestinian,
(Romeo) Juliet
but more than this
warpy reservoir
there’s the smell
of seaweed, the
color of speech
the accuracy of
diamonds, –
only now
you think you
have felt
cold in your
hot hands

::

for Real Toads

Woman

image

 

Brighter than the Sun!

Moon unworthy of your feet,

your twelve Star garland.