Preternatural
I was the first manchild she delivered brought up to be in a cold blue hell at times I remember her admonishments in the middle of the night asking for answers from stumblebum babes but I still died to have answers I used to wonder if my heart held simple equations wrought by a tender mathematics that rejects the course of human events I was forced to watch a television screen like it was gospel convinced it was good preparation for what would take place The demands for immediate results cemented the notion that a half empty cup was just as good I was listening for aircraft overhead the same way I listened for the passing of southbound trains Without a conscience or working clock filled with joy to stand on a pavement square I watched: those who bore the burden of their movements with beliefs learned in the House of Yearnings who were sweating blood as desperate culprits carrying on their backs ikons to the new world.
Mutual Friends As if sealed in a cylinder raptured to some degree. They see things clearly, if they see things at all. Perched atop a rooftop, their feet are splintered. They both wear the same colors. Drinking down wine right from the bottle. What they might say, they won’t say again. They empty the cups before they leave, all worn out from the rocket’s red glare.
Long Years Apart At times a pair of eyes intends to cross mine. Stealthy and furtive, their lenses marbled. The alarm is sounded boundless and strong They speak a language, in a volley far and near, made up of garish oaths. They sound like birdsongs, in the fields and in the sky. What strength they can muster keeps them from other people. But in gestures of affection, they’ll conquered the world
Fevers of the Mind 