short poems dedicated to suicidal seagulls

speak to the head of the triptych

say

what do you know
about brothers and sisters

what did erupting into meaning
give you
of beauty

other than
short gasps

and billows of
bad breath


---


giant squids

so hard to find

so easily left behind

the sun is up for entertainment purposes only


1

jumpstarted

into adventure

unwanted

by christlike tiger

on frozen lake


no toes


2

gypsy women singing

about gypsy women

singing

about gypsy women singing

somewhere in new york

phosphorescent sea babies

it's not hard to imagine harder times

new desires maybe

it's not hard to imagine another imagination

free of desire maybe

white clouds
whatever latin name they bear
not shaping into your sex

or your mouth and your sex

like a bag of cocaine laid out
in beautiful patterns
somewhere in the sky

to make me think of you

behind squinting eyes
and with an imagination
i imagine

that will never bring anything
better than this

summer memory from the Hardanger fjord

none of us
are split in half

none of us
are split in half

rowing boats
reeking of sex

and platonic solids

bomb night


the concrete melted

to deprive
every standing thing

of it's shadows

remains of whole families
would fit

in a red wheel-barrow