Monday, October 24, 2011

poem || Jeff Harrison

Moth Money Declaration

collecting what's
bursting in on that comma
see — spidery sea
dear for warmth
& a puzzle not lacking
what's usually winked away
you'll remember my pulse
by its corners
by what's kept in the blink
fly, frog — Poor Time in
a part for all
largest stillest shadow
at last talking, officer
I twist apart small bodies
by the hour for a clue
flowers, I opined,
walk the storm down
their thorns are tonic
for the multitudes
what is face-down will
no longer get oil from me

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