a poem a day for four days | day 3

1.25.2012

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What direction are you now from this Nordic mountain house?

dusty, vacant

chipping beamwork,

capsized cabin.

No matter the route -

Just follow me down,

to the boat that needs an anchor,

though she floats

bold balloon

only just above the ground.

siphoned death weight,

midday waverin

black eyed crater.

that parallel: my closest cousin

folded me ‘round

and slit the moon into her mouth

that lofty spectator.

decadent dreamer, with cinder feet

and breath of soot

would you concede?

It signed and swore our oaths in flames

to palms of water.

four gloaming basins

carved us there

2 marionettes where, once, a tree.

cold vine bushels

past-prime fruits

scarlet guilt upon our cheeks.

Same sorta ghosts, we.

those limber

linden grove

dream thieves.

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ash xo