Fog, chance of showers

Dragon weather.
Returning to Nova Scotia
like rain to a valley.

Nova Scotia

It was all so innocent, you mistook
what passes for spring here as death
the breath of the gulls as a war cry
the play of the waves as a threat.

But your armor's just a puzzle for the rain to solve
your coat's a pennant for the wind
the fortress, your body's unsteady,
borrowed, dissolving in May.

It's raining here,
It's raining everywhere.
Surrender.

February

Lha!
Each good day
Begins with cold water.

"You look like a regular Phillip Petit up there"

I don't need this I live on
residual heat I live on
an acre of hardwood with
bruised hipbones. I live on
and sometimes I stretch this
wire of a body to the ceiling and
hang from the rafters.

I hang there, a knitted minaret,
with my wrists turned back with
my ribcage chiming my ribcage
hammered and chiming,
my equined tendons tracing crescents
in the floorboards or else kicked up
in wild unborn dances.
my eyes open,
my breath a swallow through low clouds;
cutting small circles for the sun.

Mothra

Don't worry little
Chard-eating caterpillar
Soon you will be a beautiful butterfly
Or else a monster
Who can destroy sections of Tokyo.

Murder Ballad for Whistlestop

This is part of a song I wrote for Alnis, Clay and Emily's excellent new band Whistlestop. The other part I can't remember the words to exactly. So you'll need to buy the EP.

Oh my dear and darling sister
You will make it through
take my knife up from the table
take my riding silks.

I've been fighting with McKenzie
Fighting for a name
Now there's no one to protect you
No laudanum for your pain

Read my blood out on the pavement
As my pauper's will
Find McKenzie with your vengence
Find him smiling still

Fill his poor heart with desire
Waltz him through the dew
Find his bare breast in the moonlight
To cut my name in to.

Nighttime Sun Camp Thundersorm

Torn, drowned light
Sharp edged Kalapa
Home.