March 2014

rustic morn —
from suburban oaks
leaves unleaf

lenten reflection —
dusk smudges the horizon
into the garden

splitting the scales of sky homebound waders

within
a stillness stalks
the shadows

blood shimmer —
the necromancy
of old tides

nothing
can image now
what remains

a fetus
in all its fury
swims its wake

birth scream!
the soft susurration
of a cannula

autumn harvest —
a demi-god sucks life
from its source

moon blossom —
another bull shits
its aha