eyelids like sinking ships

on Lost Avenue
I drop my list:

dragon's breath cabochon
in reverse intaglio

umbrellas overturned
saucy fabric boats

that bob this way
and that

czech glass mermaids

wink and glow I've swum
so far to watch you conjure

bitcoin amulets
from air and bone.

these women—driven

by ambition
so fierce it paws
dirt, slender she-bull
in the ring

pierced by foreign
history, stammering
"no" until

it arrives,
soft yet scratchy,
an old-school memory burn.

mr. precedent

you were ahead
in age and intelligence

Mr. Precedent
when did you get
locked in the palace
of endless regret?

meditation for a refugee: do not come here

Are you still there? in that vast expanse
of ghostliness

kettle steam, sandalwood smoke
from an almost forgotten dream

I glimpse you
across a lake
of diamond tulle and ice,
your aura winks
rose and gold

there is nothing
for you here,
in the land of Overlook.

may your pagan steps
bring you to a rock of no regret.

triptych

three is magically
cursed or wished
upon stars, quests and wedding guests.

all these new phrases
that I ingest then forget

collect—dyed daisy chains.

listen to the hem of my shadow.
I have become
so quiet; call it stilldeath.

inside outing

awkward position
process—repetition
muscular definition

from the inside out,
I reject all doubt.

shoe spew

listening to you IS
shoes in the dryer
banging

barging into my brain

repeated clatter

clutter of the dungeon order.

Posen The Second

In the spirit of show, not tell,
I offer exhibit A: Albert Speer
on trial,

caterpillar eyebrows
punctuate his confession.

collective guilt
is an ingenious defence;

it saved him from a patient noose.

His wife
displayed equal mercy
when Hotel Europa required
removal of a bagged adulterer.

everybody has at least one

Posen.

The time you were there
yet neglected to hear

nothing is as false
as memory denied

The Speer you could have become
redeemed through lucid apology

discarded despite
twenty years of  sincere masquerading.