Closing out the game || Shutting off the lights at the end of a summer day | carcases of | moths and beetles | pool the lamp || Touch her arm, near the freckles | shaped like a rabbit’s paw | beads of sweat | scoot off her back and shoulders and | the bible grows heavier | more turgid, the | damp clothing | drops like | Lazarus’ spirit | into the darkness where | forgetting slides || Fug of | want | a lassitude so clear | you can see all the way through | to sleep | and beyond || Grasshoppers | green | samurai and mecha | sing near skirting and the sandalwood | box where the pearls | move so very slightly, their hearts | still | beating

Memories, like falling snowflakes | too many to catch or count | So bright, that sun, and | all its work | yet to be done…

 


from the series fleeting pixel (series of 1,000 poems, 2012–2016)

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