Cottage Industry

 

My long career
in explaining
my career,

my way
of proceeding,

my careen.

 

*

 

Single car garage door
wreathed in puckered husks
of bougainvillea flowers.

Poem.

Empty street
above which

the invisible planes
roar.

Oh little!

 

 

Flux

 

1

Come on poets,
word it

till it’s yours
or no one’s

the way the clock
on my nightstand,

long hand
bonking the numbers
feverishly,

is no one’s

 

2

Sing Muse
of who’s what
in this deluge.

 

The flux of dreaming
carries language with it.

 

A narrator
must stand aside
and mimic.

 

Where is he
when the whole worm
burns

from mouth to anus?

 

What is he
when the worm
refuses?

 

Photograph © Rookuzz, 2011

Five Things Right Now: Joanna Walsh
Horror Story