The First January Sun I Want to Share with You
At least a handful of sunshine,
the best ataractic; I
steady myself in the russet
downpour, attempting to trace
down this new feeling,
like a lion sniffing out the wound
from afar; I just have to trust
something to mend me, this
severed limb, this hungry
soul. And this bright this high
this projectile of light shots
through the soughing trees.
Nothing can stop it now,
not even my reaching hands
that hide my eyes
from this foliage of amber.
The wet thought is tucked away,
no clouds will embarrass me;
I want to be housed
in this new unassuming silver
of the city.
At every window
man cranes his neck out
to the sky where the unrouged
sun
nestles.
The False Haiku
I haul the thingness/of things on my shoulder/icy steps rattling the town/somewhere flattened snow
on rotten leaves/gruff-voiced smog on patrol/morning and evening/
I can’t/force a thought into words/but I can/twist my mouth into a cry/10 pm sharp adrenaline/ the city in a vortex/bricks bricks bricks/
I walk quickly/into the well-calculated/normalcy/
