Misc. 2

• Mantis

  Boys came to her

  stepping out of the summer

  the saddest ones

  buckets of nails dragged out of the lake

  their eyes bowls of blood

  transfixed by the blackness of her open mouth

  hungry for days

  for the pure usefulness of her skin

  for the intricate loneliness of her gaze
• South Congress

  They must be smart fish

  what with all the poverty and death

  like a shadow on the street

  knocking around inside the stores with their children

  feeding in the river

  with their dog masks on

  sipping expresso

  at the tables

  with some stupendous effort

  they created a pitiless sun

  to irritate and scandalize

  the heads
• Morning Spit (revised)

  A clumsy thread of spit

  dangles from my mouth

  falling into a milky pool.

  Ants crawling on bare feet

  with dark , silent muscles

  press there faces into the soft puddle.

  My spit is a hundred years of nourishment.

  
  
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