Blog, My Poems

Art Museum

  1. There are still fields where the crops split open into other fields. The crows become a canyon that opens its mouth revealing a dust storm.   2. You walk into a museum and focus on a set of inverted paintings— a cropping of heads mounted on pivoting sticks that sing.

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Blog, My Poems

I am not this tree.

Where did these bricks come from – perhaps they were trees and olive branch burned in a santuary window. As though to throw off the jack-in-the-box image, the mouth of an auditorium the Keynote is the inversion of a ghost – what do they aspire to? A tree, a lime – burning with seeds –… Read More I am not this tree.

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Blog, My Poems

The “colossal wreck”

How large must the statue be when buildings are buried like small ships once floating in a sea of sand, flesh-turned -clay figurines walking under the dome that is brushed with sand and wind and grass that touches two amputated legs. * Inspired by “Ozymandias” by Percy Bysshe Shelley

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Blog, My Poems

Corn Field

1. A house was parked floating on a vineyard where scarecrows frowned upon a funeral. The mother said, “And this is where you were made –” pointing to the area between her legs. 2. That winter, corn stalks and cactus leaves coexisted. The child pictured a machine fueled by wax and steel, by jars of… Read More Corn Field

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