This morning
ghosts wait for me
to inhabit them

You trace the shape of my ribs
the flesh of my detox
rub honey into my scars

My soul is ready
to slip under

~ ~ ~

White Burst

Nineteen winters burn willow and snow
Sheaves of wheat lean against plaster walls
Apples and shadows blend with wormwood

A messenger, brushed with feathered chalk
gave birth to all that followed
rescued me from leather shell
laid seeds in fallowness
westward, seek the coast

~ ~ ~

I'd stick myself
in the spotlight
shout out my words
make you notice me
but this noose

It's a public hanging
and if you haven't come along to heckle
then I don't know what you're doing here

~ ~ ~