2005 - Vol. 2, Issue 2

"In the Drums"

My hammer splits shale
Trilobites glisten in light
Eons-long sleep ends

"a summer freeze"

stiffening joints may be the first indicators.
unrelieved, even in Atlanta's sun.
you may notice patches of dirty residual snow;
at first, these will be restricted to dense
subarboreal shade.
by the middle of August the snow will
carpet the north sides of buildings.

at this point your hands will be immobile claws;
even your elbows and shoulders will scarcely move,
and turning your head will mean agony.
phantom pain will engulf your useless hands
at intervals.
you will wake up one early September morning to find
snow above the windows
persisting like some outré form of ice
far outside its expected environmental range.
after this day you will not move at all,
save your darting, frantic, eyes.

"a stony creation"

outside the ambit of death
an imperishable stony creation
outlasts its little god
and spreads across the land.

dusty egg on the shelf in Her room
the monster waits its turn
no friend of serpent he
but vows by its creator's
boiling yellow mud
that this is the very last girl
(small comfort to you)
but it's really meant this time
in undying sincerity
as always.

"Dark Windows"

The sting in a thirsty throat,
absinthe stills my heart, tomorrow
I will stare into the sun,
where regret pools in that inferno.
The diamonds that you made
splash like shot into the pond;
the geese twine their necks
like the rope I wear.

The nubs on the ceiling
have been rearranged;
their pattern suggests
the movement of sand along a shore.
From delta to abyss,
I have followed you,
letting my life flutter
from open hands.

These hands won't close again.
Yes, and the door won't open.
Outside the window,
leaves dance in a breeze
that I will never feel.

You used to visit,
before my weight became too heavy
for you to bear.

Everything I want
is beyond my reach,
enough. I am done.