Before portraits o’ Satan
I spit out
the abrupt taste o’ ancient candy.
Which forces me to construct this call back:
Evening fog ~
masquerading as a tree,
telephone pole.
Bloody tears
follows every step ~
fallen leaves.
A casa
las hormigas traen
la abeja molida;
mantengo abierto la puerta…
pero se queda escabullirse.
To my home
the ants bring
the grounded bee
I leave my door open…
but it stays scuttling.
Noche de verano ~
profundo en pensamiento
sin pensamiento yo
blandí la notebook
aliviar la cara
de las palpitaciones ansiosas.
Pero entonces caíste
con ala rota
y fuiste dejado
chisporrotear en la madera noble.
En oscuridad ~
oigo ¡sput-sput-sput!
Entonces cesa.
Summer evening ~
deep in thought
thoughtlessly I
swung my notebook
to free my face
from your anxious flutterings.
But then you fell
with broken wing
& were left
sputtering on the hardwood.
In darkness ~
I hear ¡sput-sput-sput!
Then, ceases.
This morn I saw a long thread o’ silk running down my bathroom mirror & saw on the wall ‘side that mirror a moth resting by a lit lightbulb.
Midsummer ~
now the ants bring home
their moth friends…
In deafened
violet midnight rain
only smelt.
June still rains ~
uninvited friends,
summer ants.
Summer bus stop ~
a dumpster in my spot.
