A Soul with No Stars

The Soul Cloud (yes, that’s one name),
Clocked at a few light years’ span,

Is a small part of the cloud
Called Heart and Soul, dense with stars.

There are tricks we can do now
To cut out the stars, to see

What the gas and dust look like.
Each new truth needs some scrubbed facts.

Ghost Hawk

Shaped like a hawk in flight,
But small and white as a dove
When it lands on the arm

Of your couch in the sun,
In a dream that you had,
Did in fact have, in the moon’s light,

A few night’s past. Then what?
Now what? The ghost hawk’s far;
The ghost dove’s near the sun.

Blood Thread

Tell me what you sell,
And I’ll tell you what
Will send you to hell;

I’ll tell you what will
Be the death of you—
Odds and ends? Your flesh?

Your hours? Your masked self?
Tell me what you sell;
I’ll know what kills you.

Life, hey? Is that it?
High on life are you,
And quick to say it?

Life will eat you, child,
Just like words eat me—
Them from us. Those teeth.