Eye Motes

His eyes were like branches underwater.

One moment the money is soft, the next it is cyan.

The sea where I stopped and you went on.

Australia is like an angry helmeted man on his back.

Water drains from her daily bath. The sound of dog nails on the floor.

Bring the steeple indoors; make two smaller ones.

Covering the porch, a new reach of the Nooksack River.

A homeless woman by the post office with her monocle.

An iron garden table in the ocean.

On the horse’s forehead, a shillelagh.

I have been writing with such a small part of my mind. I poisoned the ants good.

Antidote for honesty: a necklace made of shoulder bones.

The die back in the garden won’t wait for Easter.

On my desk: a speaker cord like an orphan pig tail, a stapler, some old mints.

A volcano’s worm casting gave us freedom.

Vodka and poems. A kiss of blind tape where the two ends meet.

2 responses to “Eye Motes

  1. O my. Each line invites taking apart, separately. Though taking apart is not really reading. We are to embrace the whole. “The die back in the garden won’t wait…….for Easter.”

    Liked by 1 person

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