|
|
|
Donna Kuhn
ACTOR CUBICLE
u in your actor cubicle with your hot endocrine chills
the clouds yin your moon noise and im a pink tooth star
silver-white of your eyes say fear
cool jacuzzi parks in san diego, berries lapping your coast
after the briefcases his forest is impatient
blue glove birds smell oblivion
the sugar chirps at the nervous sunset
the alphabets toothless horses in the walnut rain
trample a birdsong in the clear bible sun
grass, wind, not phonebooths
crimson tumbling sonoma
my skyscrapers form a pharmacist motel
BIRD ADULTS
sheep, hear the moon ache
call your roses mountains
a stranger leaves crackers
splash in the onion snow
manicure your sharp hair
a canary in love dresses
like a falling bird, blackbirds
behind her sugar moon
grandmas long lifeguard moon
strangers leave bird monoprint
birdfreak, feel the bird
dark sandpaper, industrial mushroom
very rock the whining baby
skeleton ovaries in naked trains
god lurks in the tv
he splashes air, fetuses, bloomingdales
horse fish, she’s the dry sky
sky, youre another eye
roses over a sunburn
cherry another aerobic feeling
call your roses stewardess;
blue eyelid birds
TREES
an artist washes trees
and splashes the eyes
of the moon
i dream sometimes
you were born an ax
prisons are breaking out
of statues of trees
you are woman, always suburban
i was leaves
your suffering insinuates
it was always there
wyoming and california
shivered outside
i have you, i did
stars are having desert
called cubicles
im just driving by
i talk no more
she wanted my dream
Copyright © Donna Kuhn