12.10.12

A homeless man swam in
the pool this morning.
I did not know how dire
his straits were until I saw
his plastic bags
and sack in rags
and shriveled limbs.
'Nam lived in his eyes.
Wordlessly he picked his hair
before neatly packing for
his day's routine journeying.
I stole glances as I dressed.
I  pressed my iPod off,
packed away my goggles
and fins, then messaged my
girlfriend a note.
I dried my hair under a
screaming machine,
drank a protein milk shake,
swallowed painkillers,
and readied my mind
for the routine ride.

12.1.12

I had trouble rising, though
It felt like any other day.
Sheets of powder cloak
my pregnant bump,
the ears of my crown
a valley surrounds.
My fault lines crackled and steamed.
My ear listens close to my belly.

A mantel of vellum shrouds my flesh.
Wire twisted too many times
Smothers my scent.
Once they stopped, entranced.
Eyes ablaze and palms a flower.
I'd hear a piano play,
and see a pendulum.
They bartered for my hands and feet
and carmelized my leather'd skin.
They portioned out my limbs
then fed my bones to hounds:
I was, like them, fulfilled.

I can sense his lungs deflate.
His touch no more a tongue
that sparks the throng.
Each morning hails
a little brighter sun.