Twin flames
in the dying light
Only you can make fire
From the liquid night
Twin flames,
oh, my wounded heart
Such dreams
as we fling athwart
Our desire
like embers aglow
Like this
ancient long ago
I’m burned beyond repair
Let’s fling away despair
Twin flames
In the blinding night
Only you can make love
From this dynamite
A cat
Is a cat
You got a problem
With that?
Frank leans back in the
Too small chair
Big stomach raised to heaven
Arms in limbo, gravity’s slaves
Like, truth to tell,
So is the whole of him.
All his imagining,
All his vast interior splendor
Lies imprisoned within
Severed eternally by
The cruel barrier of reality
From all of heaven and earth
As green withers and falls
It’s good to recall those other seasons
So sprung from desolation
Beneath the last and desperate snow
A boon of tenderness
Determined to catch light in its beams
Lifted itself in ignorant jubilation
Here and there, all unaware
Of its own irrelevant and unfailing
Death
All unaware, in its motishness
That such small impertinence
Begins the crack
Of winter’s back
That such improbable spiraling doom
Begets a new and ancient season
Again and again and again
In the deep and undisturbed
Rhythm of the universe
The gray sky matches perfectly
The weathered tarmac
A sense of time already gone
Cars straddle gutters
The shuttered faces of the crowd
Loom in procession
Each bearing the meaning
Of the spiraled helix
A mirror of destiny
Of inevitable withering
Still, there is that window box
With the last petunias
Of the season
exiles child 