Sound Has Ears

In the mercy of the more hollow sister 
A serene fog of moons sprinkled with plum
the vexed haint of Quasimoto is patient
her tongue leaps from her mouth like a tombstone
three times
Smooth as ash 
her favorite word is 'apothecary'
the bliss in me like the interior of a melting fear
as she moves time with an even glance
the boorish anvil of rain as she leads me into a gully
farther into the hollow sister's carny lungs
teaching me to hear in silence as hearts do

Klangfarbenmelodie

clock that measures the opposite of time
ancient pixel built from half a breath
the seed of a perfect moon

numbers don’t lie because they can’t tell the truth
the kindling space between a choice
& its airless shadow

a polite noumenon guides my dismay
with the grace of email for doves
originating in silence like all eternal things

joystruck demon of rain
the welas at the bus stop look like potatoes
in cellophane       the milk of their laughter

Anaisa’s mirror is her palm
a plangent yellow, bones of song
tracing lines of flight

Related Poems

How I Might Sound if I Left Myself Alone

Turning to watch you leave,
I see we must always walk toward

other rooms, river of heaven
between two office buildings.

Orphaned cloud, cioppino poppling,
book spined in the open palm. Unstoppable light.

I think it is all right.
Or do tonight, garden toad

a speaking stone,
young sound in an old heart.

Annul the self? I float it,
a day lily in my wine. Oblivion?

I love our lives,
keeping me from it.