Not Impala or Gazelle

 

she sings to us in code
    it's baby deer or fawn
how even does she know?
      finally I found out
within our ears she builds new roads 
    not impala or gazelle
a fin in fine form, curves infinite and contained
a cathedral of blood and arteries and veins
a chamber within that delicate refrain
a spider's tiny hint at the bass line in our brain:
a gentle revolution which leaves us unexplained

Colors

 Fog is not a thing
 mist rises, clouds sink lower
 the world is shrouded.

 A sandpiper call
 Invisible, far, serene
 in misted dawn-grey

 swirls like creamed coffee
 eddies around our edges
 Obfuscates the pain 

 the bugaboo cries
 tears to wet his cheeks and eyes
 the fog brings life back

 we live on no land
 boat of hopes, mistakes, and dreams
 grey ship, fog, and sea

French

 Monet we must trust
 we find Sartre gardening
 Curie's glowing moss

silica snake cars
start the hissing and depart.
Western throws the rail

with berries and fur
an earth hovel we've chiseled
to find no bodies

we did like we saw
a TV imitation
one punch, bloody nose

Hunger

Aaron's intestines
were not visible at all
but we saw his spine