Poem a Day November – Day 3

in praise of the still, small voice
that does not speak butĀ grasps
you at the crux of your bones
and moves you into the day
when moments ago you thought you’d
spend all day afloat
on the ocean-bob of the couch

in praise of cupcakes and clarinets
in praise of the white pines
looming curved and sap-dripping
pinned by the wings of Aphrodite
to the world

Poem a Day November – Day 2

for Lee Ann

clothed in ink and wreathed in shadow
alien life pushing through the thread of your own
offer up a cup of parcels: poems, carrots, shrimp heads
— chomp! — it accepts
or expresses displeasure in endless nausea,
jolting you through the interior as you travel
the two worlds, inside and out

what witch’s power lets you let it pass through you
without death but transformation?

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