October 2, 2012 – ayaladn

Run, She May

what time she carries miles, for Jack-in- a-box, a cat- alog of phyla out of stock & issues of renewed commemorative pop-ups — she, herself, in meadows a dark forest, what time a sunny rock, what time dry brook, cut-out books for dolls she scissors

To A Rafter

silence on a stairwell landing, she said, ‘turn away’ at a door, an attic oriel, a crumble- sill at dawn’s lace stretcher dry as dust yet, tender air, ‘turn away’ & he did, a tilted flow o’er cobble laid alleyways, to a galleon