I Know Why The Caged Bee Stings

The power in these lines
I cannot tap without burning my fingertips

Liquids and lightning
Seeking their own level

Pink is for girls, blue: a boy’s best friend
And fishing nets and city maps
Can both be worn, don’t count for clothing

Charged, you turned your glass eye skyward
Full of tears devoid of artifice

I saw your live wire masquerade
To your hidden hum I wrote these lyrics

Buildings Of Night

Hundreds of miles east,
Moments before I can see them
The setting sun kisses the evening sky
With his flame, in your eyes.

We are just the same as I watch them
Tussle from my front porch,
Two drunk lovers
Folding into a darkened alley,
A purse dropped onto still-wet bricks.

Arcana

Fan your bad hand
palm down before you—

hard yellow demons
displace the tarot

and tell uncertain chances:
tea leaf bruises,

the tale of the Empress
inverted like a bat

ill-dignified
by no fault of her own,

swallowed
but scaling the tongue.