03/06

water / ink 

the spill turned loon wing.
bled through a shirt. bled through
a brown paper towel. migration
cancelled & put off till 
another more promising blue arrives.
i'm a porch dweller. i picking
the heads off future dandelions.
my heart shed like a fountain
when you over-turned. o my vase
of lillies. o my brother blueberry thumb. 
blot the stars' tears with 
an extended finger. tear ducts
swarming the moon. glossy 
insect beating into a warm bulb
to make a nice red-splotch. 
pouring a glass of water 
into the carpet to help it drink.
the house is thirsty from years
of un-released gossip. tell me the truth
about the stains on the wall,
were you drawing war machines again?
everything can be drown. blurred down
to just the lines' mischeif. 
i get in a bathtub to watch
my colors run. take a book in with me
to drain words. only the water
grips the original close 
to her chest. warbles with it then
waltzes the final say.
i could be kissing you right now
& we wouldn't even know, would we?
you could be stealing my bouquet
of pens & i wouldn't even try to stop you.
the morning is coming too early anymore.
i ask for rain to smear 
the day shut. one day i will 
speak my name into a downpour 
& never have to worry about it again. 

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