Eve Rounds

this is

the kind of day

my jaw bone gnashes on an invisible feast
craving to create
craving to feast on the creation

but with instrument missing from his stand
and sight taking the vacation i was meant to have

i am stripped

though a happy heart acts as an industrial grade furnace
this chill ripples beneath the skin in blues and slates
a continent’s distance within
the disparity between spectral beauty and simple pain

away with starvation
and
skeletal clenching
my
stomach is full on the
soon
of
songs
and
sun

i don’t even know

how long it’s been. haven’t been counting days haven’t counted backwards on the calendar. haven’t bothered to reread my own words. haven’t been missing you

the five senses

your blue eyes and crooked lippy smile which i inherited that tiny soft bristle brush for your basically bald head the white corvette a campfire cards

love

what did falling in love feel like to you actual falling a new winter sweater a blood flutter did you question its science or were you

noise

sometimes the wind the waves muffle and drown my memories sometimes the wind the waves magnify and amplify the sound of your voice and clearing

the theatre

this is  a silent film flickering  catching  starting over emptiness surrounding such a blinding contrast ahead of us shared stories  captured images disconnected nonsensical we

Twins

It isn’t easy being a twin.   Others considered us as one two-part person,  while our parents saw,  in our conspiring, four or more.