New Little Vines. Here is this week’s array.
souls this morning on this earth
inhabitants of an immense prison
burned red by the frenzied sunrise
the mirror has been deactivated –
in other words
I dropped it on the tile floor. Oops.
Careful. If we were to fail
all of that depravity wasted
an escape route
to my dreams –
the strength of a starry night
shoelace rum and green apple pie
fish in a gold daze swimming in the surf
how I long to be home again
you chose one of the two an hour ago:
the victim’s cornsilk hair
cut in a
neat pageboy hairstyle
I seriously doubt
he feared embarrassment
or in fact that he’d even heard of it
a funeral in this small sour rain
the aroma of a just-peeled tangerine
the soul walks away from the body
the pump of merry-go-round music
twirls the cotton candy machine
wraps the paper cone with a pink mist
carries the aroma to the highest seat on the Ferris wheel
prayers resented condolences rejected
I hated the old creep and
I am one-hundred percent glad he’s stone-cold dead
Did she really have such wrinkled old lace skin
Was her face this garish shade of sepia?
Wait. No. The photo is creased and
someone has spilled coffee on it.
Excuse me but I do not recognize this saint
stamping on a toothbrush in her fluffy neon slippers
that you have depicted so wonderfully in stained glass?
why am I traveling
into the mist
why do I enter this underwater countryside?
glowed purple in the haze
a stray dog barked once and was silent
of the eggshell
breathe in chlorine,
white Oxford cloth shirts,
immerse yourselves in the baptism of bleach
and be renewed.
His teeth. And a certain tell-tale pallor.
The bridegroom is a vampire.
A much more likely story than wedding jitters.
Has anyone mentioned it to Cheryl?
the waitress coughed
the mosquito hit the plate glass window
Recovered. Went for her fleshy upper arm.
Dishes hit the floor. Always even the score.
bodies jangle on the dance floor
the soles of their feet start to smoke
the disco ball glows grape and shatters