THE WANDERER
formless
is the wanderer
without even a refuge
in his own mind
no love for him
in his own heart
his thoughts like mud
flow through the swampy
growths that run endless
to no sea
the sun is swallowed
by some clouds
then sets
invisibly
like a broken
yoke
~
PASSING THROUGH
like the glass
at Jesus’ house
my words come across
to you in all the brown
ways I didn’t want them to
~
SPIGOTS
spigots
and a mop
tiles stuck
with blood and cold silk
drawn from a calcium tap
I have no idea
where this is
going
I ate two bowls of
cereal this morning
and I’m still thinking
about it
~
TOILING UPON THE DUSTY STONES
toes first
across the yellow star
I stop
and peer
leaning like
an eel
from a
coral pit
only the coral is
made of matchsticks
and I’m wearing
a sandpaper
raincoat
~
WHATEVER RAN AWAY FROM THE LAMP
each window
pane
is a black mirror
at 12:36 a.m.
returning whatever
ran away
from the lamp
and kitchen overhead
~
SEAN TIERNEY 