Shows itself, when you return from getting the mail at night,
as an airplane, a planet, and a partial moon studding the sky
like three lost earrings suspended in Mozart or in blown glass.
A man demonstrates the fragile art of blowing perfume bottles.
One of the bottles breaks, which is not part of the plan.
Do you know that trio in the sky? It plays to the tune of a spirit level.
When the level shifts, the spirit bubble softens like a glissando
in a Dali timepiece.
Remember, this is about chance and its games.
Where on the roulette wheel do you throw your money,
and does it matter?
Wheels are round, and chance is a wheel. Grab anywhere.
It will take you full circle if you can hang on.
As a matter of course, the wheel will run you into the ground.
You might get discouraged and let go, often near the top
when all your weight dangles, when something might happen
that hasn’t before, the curves you can’t see around
or get enough of: the definition of desire.
In Posse Review (inpossereview.com), Issue 25
I choose salt, a common mineral unfit for jewelry.
Its ladder is fragile and vital, which other jewels are not.
Salt lives in the blood.
It does not care how it is seen
but cares a great deal how it is savored on the tongue.
I cannot live without you, jewel of choice.
I work myself into your skin so we will last together a long time,
older and tougher.
I adorn my body with salt. You comply,
an animal drawn to the lick.
Predators skirt the underbrush but we ignore them
because our hunger is more huge.
I wish to be nowhere but encasing the saltiness of you.
Steam Ticket: A Third Coast Review, v XV (Spring 2012): p. 73