Today’s feature is a selection of several shorter pieces from Requiem for a Robot Dog.
Indecision in the morning,
Action in the afternoon,
Regret at night.
Goats lock horns on the ghat,
One light, one dark.
I like to think they’re dueling for the fate of the world,
But the truth is, they care nothing for our sacred space,
The tourist boats scudding along the water.
They know only the musk of their opponent,
That one will come off the victor and go
In search of grass.
Gaffes, length of rope, miner’s hat, canary
Into the suffocating places
Nothing soft, not even the air yields.
Dashed on the Rocks
If I were light, I wouldn’t be a star.
I’d be the flickering pink-and-blue of an all-night sign
Luring, like sirens, the thirsty to their ruin.
I do not fear the dirt and the darkness.
I thrive in the snug pockets of the earth.
For 17 years, my soul lies fermenting,
To rise, s hed my carapace,
And join my brethren in song.
forming circles and arcs
with our bodies:
a union of common need.
is what they call the little one
germinating in her belly.
Seeds within a seed,
a thousand dreams clenched softly
within that still-green fruit.
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