Solstice 2.0

By | 15 February 2023

At this time,

we feast the son
mammal-fed, citronella

after dark, little fires
the oldest light

in the world.

At this time,

we ask who we are,
and movement answers

first person—
I was


or ablutions
for the short and long

in it all.

At this time,

I have forgotten the body.

November agains
and every blossom untendered

goes to seed.

At this time,

I match
another conifer.

I am bone dry.
Tindered. Even the prayer

flags are hung,

to teak verandahs,
and hot air rushes


At this time,

I swallow a mollusc,
organ as trojan

water type as horse.
We’re rolling

cheap wordplay,

then backspacing

My mother still has

At this time,

I sashay
snout to sphincter

become coconut flesh
so easy to love.

A captain cook cruise.
A malibu-themed christmas,

crown land and common wealth
kikis. Meaning sashimi’d

in terms possessed,
then cured—

like a pig.

At this time,

we have eaten,
find father

in a jock, strapped
to a convertible.

Did he wrap around
the left

or the right?

At this time,

we intermittent

look over the obliques
—tense again—

to see if someone really was there
ready to snatch

this junk,
every little thing

we held,
this close

to loss.

This entry was posted in 108: DEDICATION and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

Related work:

Comments are closed.