annunciations
Belly Into Fire
We each emerge from a fiery wound
bloody and wailing and move for a time
between vacuum and the light
between laughter and the dust
between ashes and the wind
as quickened presences set against the nothing
before returning to a shallow darkness
carved into implacable silence…
solitary pleasures
July 25
the poem I composed before sleep
was short but to the point
it caught some bit of the day
and turned it into something whole…
sometimes I think
Vegas
There’s a cross
in the desert sky
where two contrails meet.
An X drawn on a blue so stark
it must mean something,
I think…