PIANO GRAND

The grand piano

falls. It lands, a yawn.

Look in & see teeth

of Babylon. Beyond

bone, a celestial crux,

a body’s red.

Look down

the resting place

of fingers. Open

your palm  &   hatchlings

bird.

A Poplar drips from the grand

summit; an inverted ear,

an epoch with clocks

plump as bridling eyes.

BLACKWOOD

I am a balcony without a building. I hang

with the amphibious complexion

of spring

and all it’s mourners.

The dahlias do not stray far

from fingernail’s irretrievable

vowels, fenced in

by surfacing teeth.

The orange tree takes

back its offerings

barrels vanish, shadows

vanish.

Somebody left a noose lined

with insects

I am a harp without

man I borrow fingers

from weather vanes

I will not open ears

until rats feast on orange

skins

and a noose blooms from a patch

of fall.

The dead are dying, I lay

my mandolin down, its mouth

stays open. A ladder grows

from the tongue.