Dead Wood

by Jeff O’Malley

A mind laid out Cut into drunken dreams and sober nightmares Realized temptations amidst forgotten clawing whiskeyed whimsy A mind, my mind, ancient Dreams steam from it like a broken tea kettle– Hot drenched guiltless vapors Teeming into nightmares like untuned guitars in broken hands erupting from the grave to Grind on the fiction of my optimism A blind patience; a timeless problem Solved only through persistence Solved only in imagination Image after image combining Then digesting positivity: The green of a lovers’ bench Undone by slimed flapping tongues Inside unseen mouths; a still frame etched in my eye while glistening off a giant black ball The belching glee of fat long gargoyle faces Piled on spuriously awkward bodies But also the clouds simple slow waltz Across merciful moons With time stopping luminance That penetrates my veiled boglands stealing darkness in moment chunks Breeding smiles through thievery But also graveyard fog trapping then releasing A lover with a slow easy gait Leading to a quick wisp of innocence Before seeing a broken smile Lie dead and unmended The overwhelming horrific certainty of combing lust And an idle mood; with every tick tock I scream plans against glaciers of circumstance binding myself to fates unknown as I dangle from gossamer strings fearing the fierce snip sound of scissors already in a trembling hand

inside my mind these pictures always Breed from the sound of dead wood Like hummingbird miracles.