bree

St. brigid /name sister
sent his coaches back 'way
spent an evening in rag bone /couch lay
a fingerin a rope, figurin on hopes
b'yond the clean tress/gem staid

prince of poker (used his sheath
and whored on home.

sister sister made a lawn
for children in a garland sewn
of words, ink well bled
butress upon a bumpkin
for the banks of her heart have
muddied and glown.
the currents of what she's meant
have hurried on a hundred loans
made in good faith
not blown,
not blown.

This Time Bees

In Gradient Euphoria
skirt the waistline,
a buzz about a ring::box off the integrity
of bees in breach of private briefing,
                All Over;
two dead in the sink:
:three in laundry, sodden
four a-scatter ‘twixt the cat box
and the door

::and one up on ceiling as if in focus,
measured dumb and blinded],
no bustline,
never caught
as long as I wing/not flaunt

        in Bee’s Keep.

Messy ^

In my house
you’ll find
     1   the occasional sock;
     2   the gentian gasket,

that bares no mind.

Bend of a rust particular, bleed in light.

I’ll see it when I stream or lay.

Shoot it under any other light : claw foot

or Roman bastion, traffic on the ceiling : fish in dark

lie openly, no embarrassment, no fashion.

In my house the tactic is bombast, a scion.

Bree