we danced around each other all night long
mamboing and tripping in circles,
taking bites out of each other’s throats
metallic, malleable, ready
we mingled like fire on skin
you whisper of your woodworking days and
I could see you now:
new shavings flittering off the palms
those stronghold hands
dust carelessly pooling around your collar
holding finished product to light
I wish to step into this scene,
to carve breast into back and
hold the beatings of your chest
as your lips
brush mine with color
I strain awake.
poetry in motion 
(16.6.23)
I was a happy mammoth,
now I am frozen in a glacier.
I struggle soundlessly
against the dull thrum of time,
here where every inch is a year.
A pallid gray light comes through the sidewalls,
just enough
to reflect my old images
in this cold prism.
Please come, fat sun,
and spring me from this pain;
deposit me, half-stunned and still
into the terminal moraine.
The sun will not come.
Now metabolism is paramount:
If I can wiggle a toe, I can sweat a leg out
until I am encased in meltwater and vapor.
Trust in P = (nRT/V) until I burst
all-right and steaming,
with no memory of thirst.
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