Poem as Wonderland

If the white rabbit was love,

well, that was Alice chasing it

and if not, it was an accident, a slip

and fall down the well.

 

Rejecting the Cedar

 

Through yesterday’s meadow

           

            the bare

 

stumbling skips

 

streams over lichen, rocks

 

            color her heart brown.

 

White cross, rotting wood

    

     paint taken to the gray

 

near worn struggling grass—

 

she sees your green in her hand.

So-Called House: A Crown of Sevens

 

He burned the house, a tremble incident.

To live in Contention—all spilled tongues,

 

To live in contention—all spilled tongues.

He built it, cards, clatter inside her.

 

He built it, cards, clatter inside her;

Rakes trace her gravel, her ribs and ash—

 

He burned the house, a tremble incident.