You Are

You are the bright obstacle
To all things made or imagined
The wasted dress maker's
Drunken sleep, the drink
And her reason for drink

The showman's two
left feet, his stage fright
The kings conscience
And his lover's lies

You are the winter's warmth,
The swimmers drought
The daughter's lust
The widow's memory

You are the anchored ship,
The wearied antibody

You are the body
Un-embodied, the stars
Unearthed in the heavens,
The spirit that wanders
Toward them forever
Forgetting earth

Attempts

from my attempts to reach you
there came an opiate child, formed
awkwardly in the trunk of my car
moist and kicking - a red eyed screamer

he would not call himself december
but ached with tremors and snow

I say this only to insult you
to make you guilty - to force you

to return my calls

Daylight Sources

placated days obey the hit parade. final whistles
the end attract, draw close the kids in the back wondrous
as a heart attack, the open core of travelers
traveling digitless, amazed cabling, construction scaffold world
made world, sinless but still afraid, self assembled star raided
gambler in a song they used to play, bury your assets in the sun.
they will not search their own - but mind the burning. assemble
no candles there, or fuel or houses, books or minds.
bury only ghosts, pocketed souls, animal voices of the murmuring kind.
These, or the winter passengers by whom no fire may be set:
The spiced children that die - the sugar children - the lyme
and snow children, only of the sightless kind, dark as that fluid
which first you breathed, suckled from daylight sources