some days you just ain't inspired.
1.
On the water the loons
crow like cracked bells
the streetlights are dim
as a battery of moons
with gentle love becalmed in torpor
we pass our days
2.
All night the rain beat on the slate.
The statues wept into their hair.
Water sluices hisses in the grate
And shorebirds hurl their bodies through the air.
My body swells, a white and present weight
in fulsome bloom, its rosy breasts are bare.
3.
Like the morning whose lean face hungers between the hills
I am pale and ready to become.
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