Sugarhill

Moonlight

Streetlight

Holiday Inn

The glow is as a film scene

I was not called back for

Moving house

There are days without poetry

The snow is still steady

Glowing sky rose and blue

Some echo of light but

Mainly prose tonight

The loosely tied wedding

Bouquet dried and surviving 

This last of winters 

Cut flowers cut from it

Love is a list 

That does not rhyme or reason 

It is bullets down the page

Short names for old treasures

And the agony of strike-throughs

Love is a daily bread

Seeded and sour 

Feeding ritual and sacrifice

In the dark space of our home

These are days of prayer

And prayer is not a poem

14th Arrondissement (Body only bones)

I'm not trying to make

Lost seem like a desirable

Outcome, really there have

Been times when I thought 

I was going to die out there

Like when the friend of a friend 

Who was leading the expedition 

Told us to turn off our flashlights

To save battery because he could

Not remember the way and he

Would be right back what you

Maybe don't understand is that

We were deep under Paris entombed 

With thousand thousand thousand 

Femurs and fibula and skulls I used 

As cupholders and in those moments

Of darkness and only silence I thought 

Maybe my skull too would end up

Cupping beer bottles of the future

A girl could be so lucky but see I wasn't 

Sure that friend-of-friend would

Find the way though I don't need to

Tell you that he did

When we emerged it was freezing

Four AM on the train tracks, very much 

Alive but I do still think about my bloodless

Body only bones only bones where 

Will they be most useful 

Sacromonte

Once in the mountains I was lost
And, stumbling upon a couple of ibex
Was invited to an ibex conference 
I think mainly out of ibex courtesy
And perhaps bewilderment
I don't think they expected
to find me there, and to be fair
Neither did I. Now, listen --
I'm not talking a conference 
Like a congress of baboons or
One of those murders of crows
I mean an organized conversation
At which we discuss burning
Ibex issues and discoveries
That is what I imagine, at least
Ultimately I could not attend
The path was too steep 

This was not the only time 
I have been lost in the mountains
Though it might have been 
My only chance to become
Ibex lore, no, I've accidently
Walked through many homes,
A human once ushered me 
Through a roofless front door
In Spanish courtesy without
Bewilderment rather just 
A roll of the eye and a barking pack
Of dogs, another time I wasn't
Really lost at all, just thirsty
And all the springs were dry 

But back on Sacromonte
I thought I was home free  
Until I hit a chain link fence, 
Crawled through a hole 
Against the dirt to emerge 
Into a restaurant that was very
Closed and expansive
Three whitewashed tiers
tumbling down the rest of the
Mountain I had all the views
to myself then jumped off a wall
To escape 

I laid down in the grass

I laid down in the grass

It was exactly as before 

Though covered in cold and farther from the ground 

The sky was the same

Clouds came by and told their stories 

Not to me but

I was close enough to hear 

Sunk as I was in the quiet

My skin was the same

Just older

Leaving more space for the wind 

And carrying on 

I left my body behind

A sign of passage pressed into the field 

Until the landscape resets

Under footfall and snow