so, these are portraits… they were written for my poetry class. enjoy.

*

                so is expecting

 

            she waits by the door always

            cold comes in    kisses her cheek

                                      then goes to the corner

            where he sits

          at the mouth         and so waits

                                       because eager

                                       moments

                                       wants more

so is every moment in between

so sits by the door     never closed completely

opened fully        so waits

 

 

*

 

chin held

higher  blue

hair lost eyes   above

she got around

    back 50 years

a desk

 

 

*

 

a necklace   a sticker   a bottle of milk

a tip jar

a tee shirt

a calendar

                 an antique store

a pillow

a mug

an earing   all touching

 

 

*

 

the cartoons     get lost

and dropout     forever under

  your heavy blanket sky

 

 

*

 

                            these aren’t mine, these are yours

                            these aren’t mine, these are yours

                            these aren’t mine, these are yours

                            these i am so tired of doing this

 

 

*

 

   he rubs his dry fingers skin

and finds words in his mouth

cupped  clapped  pauses       breathing

                                         into pockets   beating

 

he rakes the back of his

  voice for more

 

his pockets

are filled with two million

dollars    all pennies

 

   he loves

his hands sink in wiggle

 

a wave will wiggle seashells on

that tide   him

 

*

 

    you tease ceilings      you

         i have war paint in my shadows

    all walls make room

           you make    you

    break tomorrows tomorrows   finger drawn daydrips

all on kinds of body

i make i strong

golden screws hammers thread fine

finer   open faced holds hands  high

together

       fan hold hands and breeze you  you  kisses

higher

i touch you you because soft

 

 

*

 

they memory loved

all cobble stones

licking the pope behind the ears

sweet smiles all

and sticky sunrisingness

held in two

rotated in snowless globes

all still glitters and bubbles kindly

but nothing cold

only hands

tongues on colors

sugar from the start go

 

*

 

four old mouths drip money corners

   lean in   lean in

two windows  scared    to   move     refuse      to       open

all cups and bottles

  lids and bottles

    plastic  glasses

bottles and fingers

                               all capped  uncapped

all fingers on ears on

 

    baptized in his papers heap

       

                  wet

they watch with their tongues

                                  and wave goodbye

 

            under water

 

 

almost

 

 

*

 

he old hands move words from air immediate

he shoulders shudder dusty glass bottles rattle cold

he cement grey cracks age around him heavy

he no eyes touch no eyes    touch

he I don’t miss you

he walls inside are all warm colors

 

 

*

 

her

eyes embroider moments  sunlight

blocked   movement open in (sways)

(her)  floors

small sweep dances in slow motion curvatures

curtains     hide

and  don’t    (her)

reach in stretches in forward in back

each

defined space in

each

defined space

 

 

*

 

words on strings make love in knots

and trip

                        in between lips

hunting down throats

to find your lungs and

 

*

 

 

strong

wind he tips

 

over

 

all suit

 

his falls off

 

 

 

the floor wants

his love on boards

 

 

he is waiting

he is perched

is that his