Saturday, August 1, 2009

Brandi Watts

Full Sky

The hoary the firmament was the full
dripping onto the mountaintops
over the back to the other side
letting us know it was coming
like smoke blowing backwards.
Rearing to go rare
through the crisp timbers.
Rolling the thick fog en bloc
finger stuck puff clouds
linked like paper dolls
holding hands toe-to-toe
marching over dormancy
to demand our latent attention.

Balancing the Boat

She doesn't want to be a grown-up today, anymore.
She wants to be a flower-fed tiger,
pouncing through a field of tiger lilies,
cannibalizing on her floral counterparts.
She doesn't want to say it's over, anymore.
She wants to be a rainbow trout, today,
floundering through rainbow reflections,
painting new stripes across her ribs.
She doesn't want authority, ever.
She wants to be a mosquito
drawing blood and leaving poison,
but only for one summer.
She tries to shrink
and slip through the window screen,
but only her eyes make it through,
so she watches the clouds pass,
she does her part.


a sneeze
flumped from the audience
snappy and smacky
in my white chuckle glove,
or a grin in my magenta frizz.
Smile though
painted on at least.
Big feet calloused
by cannonball pranks.
Oh to be. To be
a clown.
To make everyone
with everything sad
wrapped in rainbow silk
and painted to match
happy memories
so when I tug on my sleeve,
only I'm close enough to see
the flowers are dead.

Crazy Moon

crazy moon
been full five days
no jive
talkin through windows
i say to the glass
how many full moons
in a row
before it crack in half
before this whole world
suddenly tense
disappear from me
parallel lines intersect
past perfect past
doesn't seem important
when even the moon
can't rest

August Song

On the porch
just look at the sky throb
with the music
and he stands on the corner
swooning fireflies
through his trumpet.
The dock is swamped
with poker faces
tossing life rings to
lame ducks.
Remember the depression.
The great depression.
It's perspective.
It's the only way to know
things are good
little girls clomping
down the wooden sidewalk
dreaming of bubblegum
and shoes that fit
swaying smiling
to his sad brassy tune.

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