He comes to me electrically, charging.
His hair rusts, crumbles. Cracked
glass eyes delve into me before
his linen wings holler their drone
...
I have cockles in my eyelashes,
molluscs underneath my arms,
moss and algae float between my toes,
salt flakes from my back.
...
Box
If I had a box
I would put in it
all the things I love
about life.
the memories I hope to always have
but will inevitably
forget.
the little scraps of paper
which hold pictures
and words
which are now
fading.
I would snatch out of the air
the funny things I hear,
which make me happy
so that I can actually remember them
when I want to make someone
smile.
so when I need to cheer you up
I can just reach onto my box
and give you a memory.
to replace your sadness.
August '05