Dried Cranberry on Twine

Iced the nightlong buttercup

                        plumage. Shall turret the tin

ooze. In this rubble of bear

                        leather strung as rather had

spent heirlooms. On those

                        ledges pour berry by pawed

bumpers in the flatten fabric

                        the fluting hung to. There is

our generations birthing out

                        from a carved bone of pearl.

Cerebrum mold strange let.

                        Scraped the bare head yield.

There are claws of common

                        lid put to decorative necks.

There are torn dimensions

                        through which bear tenders

spirit swaddled. We within

                        are dried cranberry pause is

that rouge and blent radiant

                        with a transparent air piece.

That held taut this charmed

                        twirl by the bear is blue eyed.

We would see great fields of dandelion

                                                                                                       Milkweed and Wooden Leg, acrylic on canvas

Was this forest burden. To leave our body.

There is beauty being that were tender.

That were whispers intent. Then the living

twigs to hem arising shapes. We are dilute

veiled in sufficient fields pulsing. Moving

lights alongside formless hills. We were

created affluent. By that had hat and hand.

Could well have been her father’s trousers

were left balled behind us. We align limp

at each barren yield. Want exhaustion did.

Bloomed about the caul that were negated

by left felt the wrapped moon. Discarded

to our feel sought and then stumbled case.

About to go drunk on a cocoon of laughter

healing against us. We bend wept for joy.

There in our heart traced had grown to the

worm glow beyond is fresh. Borne wonder

worn apart in pursuit a tactile pleasure bin.

Eye of the Rabbit

    Before a brain been forth. Before too tender

the narrow is. Had rustled about this canyon

    dwelt atop powerful haunches. Into the purer

eye the rabbit nestles in transient socket. Had

    etched upon fragile grass is welded across a

spirit world seeming. And revolves the seeing

    eye in whose sluice a moist coddled. Brought

such wonders across barriers the shepherded

    batter. Had shaven some this humble morning.

Filled the belly on young alfalfa ties the farmer

    let spread and shuffled to the brush future is.

Keyed such memory portals for the garroted

    decay. Everything else turned prescient in the

eye ajar. Bells sung to the meadow enable seem.

(Yellow Medicine Review, Spring 2015)

In These Dandelion Hood

Milk cloak the bindle jar. Blanket a bent

milk tampering left cloak flowing. Made

milk of these flower robes. Milked even

of cowlick. That the dulled robes tapped

a skirt where in a dandelion hood. Once

been ruined a milk ogre had sat sudden

as for cutty bulk that these dick bearing

beneath by uneasy thimble. Milk an etch

is went. Scrub the puppet seat. Wishing

on a sympathetic milk chair. Of it mostly

better blanket the moment a thoughtful

horses. Than dark in curled these lunatic

thereafter. A mass. A ghost beak hooked

the shadowed edge. Somewhere in these

other eye reach to lingers. Huddle chalk

silhouette to make believe in fit to form.

Milk now the skip sun crack. Uncommon

turtle twisting. Exactly hopscotch caught

undered by regrown. Face is wreathed in

weedy fritz. Scrubbed the puppet seed is.

Will Sampson with his Boot in Motion

Will Sampson with his Boot in Motion

Debride by gentle bearing are being clear and felt

   for a taffeta ball. Threw about by nightshirt blent

within shadow. Will gash about in this the visible

   plumage. Made carrion claws clutch about a nick

line did harbor such piercing pleasures. I muffled

   about on my mouth. Had pressed to a pillow been

made healed and free. And there are darker fields

   out through the glass that barred between us too.

And another bird floating over. Held on delicious

   thoughts between the eyebrows. That go up only

to an ephemeral juicy fruit flavor packet. To faith

   lines I humbled on. There are a thousand rooms

in this psych labyrinth where a palm were being

   held by out raging into plastered hat. Fancy angel.

Spilt stone worn. If I were to be inspired in these

   uneasy ascensions. If I were only to climb through

more window. One thing calmed to no tongue did.

   Brought back to life by his gum. And the heaviest

work boot struck my butt. Then I got my sack back.

Ubdop

Ubdop what doing done. At

                        slump of the being which has

been made slipped into such

                        unique summer an irresistible

course. Ubdop these crackly

                        butterflies and we are emphatic

wings. Half of abandon being.

                        Then arise deepens with huge

a sullen let does. Was enough

                        ubdop the abdomen now lacks

in us. For only in them did our

                        perplex eye have budges leant.

Formed of our gentle stretch is.

                        There we are stood upon with

pedestrian peepers out. Huddle

                        the elegy from which is burnt.

Ubdop than by a smitten sun.

                        Ubdop what seems selfish was

left to rush under a plain table.

                        Ubdop a wander leg flown off

so still could we cut a heavy hem.

Blueberry

Storm and Erik at Madeline Island

James in Duluth (by Nick Autio)

James in a Dome (by Bette Autio)