16 September 2020

Postcard 190


She sits upon a pile of old bicycle wheels -- bent spoke and flat

rubber tires cracked. She spins How she is upright is mystery


She stays upright in mysterious power. Gears and wires press

into her legs, here and there trailing red welts and stripped skin


Punctured as a tire and tube

 Her legs -- soft and strong -- press


into those things extruded & stamped

dead ends of kinetic life

She is a still but singing ring -- the gyre alight

What can be held by broken welds on rusted pipe?


And does whatever orbits like degrade? Only

as her tremendous weight pulls in embrace


And does whatever orbits escape -- annihilate

and free? Only in her light release


Orange pedal reflectors -- a scatter of photons

in the asphault shattered weeds. Her feet


sit solid as Atlas and share his dancing joy

She sits upon a pile of old bicycle wheels

                                                -- spins

Postcard 189


envelope me

you fold like fine paper my

two fingers in creamy eternity

i was convinced i was the well -- oily and deep

i am gutted by that poison drink

envelope me 

ivory bright sheet clean me tonguing

desperate words along your supple crease -- aspiring

to the mighty pen. tattoo my name

in penetrating ink

envelope me

your spool recieved but on edge

im bleeding through seeking tear

-- smudge unto me

as i smear unto you

envelope me

with clear

drive me from you

r fibers -- rub yourself alone

and free -- erase me 

envelope me

my words foreign to you

muddy untrue -- wrap them up

precisely send them off far 

off into discarding world

envelope me unworth you

13 September 2020

Postcard 188

Oh Faith
Once again, I have taken mad religion too seriously
Which is it -- gods or over the counter manuals?
I'm trying to convince with show dont tell
Jesus Christ! "Thankfully my lover-priest, my sacrifice, aother
found succor in these cruel witches I know of," for instance
Like the old Doctor had firm capability -- like me but not muddy. Clean
Sterile. professional. What you desire but pristine. I'm tired
of trying to convince how desperate life can be. Get it
while you can. How tender can we see ourselves
in awesome relief? I drink you like the sea
What can you doubt? Feel my hands, my scars. I am here
Thank god I found relief. You leave me
a bag of teeth & two commerce manifestos -- Gottman PHd
his bland apocalypse in a dustjacket. Are you the whore
of Babylon or daughter of Danville CA Cheryl and Steve
Magic. Witches. Gods. Moons. I drank dangerously
I worshipped, bled, went nightswimming 
in your bottomless sea. For this? Lifetime
movie eight essential dates betrayal. You 
betrayed me. Better watch what standards you seek
I take all this magic talk serious after all.
I'm taking a sabbatical