Ashes and Tears
She anoints discontented worlds
her claws preening her feathers,
with soft snores tinged by night-light
Enchanted by Mexican seeds,
she exerts vulnerable chirps
from a closed, sharp-slicing beak
They say the world is mere ashes
and tears but sputtering words
spasm her eyes into darkness
One day a leaf fell in her ear
gleaming with frost-dagger light,
or so she dreamed with eyes open
If a leaf sings, a tree shudders
If rocks walk, rivers argue
If rain dances, fishes clap
Her tail is a twelve-pointed star
of blood-shot truth that sprouts light
from rumpled, dangling feathers
Walking Daffodil (Midnight in Poet City)
Under the vast, milky splash,
Daffodil strides, wolf-like,
leading me by the leash.
Our heads escape the snare,
grasp of pawing branch shadows
outlined by fuzzy moonlight
In our uncorrupted dream,
sidewalks swell with knee-deep leaves,
others sail, scrap the streets.
Daffodil’s tags ring against
her collar, transporting us
over waves of found time.
Reanimation
At dusk, the shadows
of white on black rocks
walk, beside me, home.
A weeping willow
brushes her long hair
away from her face.
A giant horsefly
whinnies on his thin,
half-dangling kneecaps.