Robin Wyatt Dunn writes

take the tired off of the barge
and bury the night
winter the sky and try the spark
under your lips
who or where
got slipped 


stars and carriage in the bones
endure the anvil spread out over our heads
inside the silence, I am praying to a private god
of my feet

Robin Wyatt Dunn writes

Take my hand over the leavings
The stamps and stumps
The mass of the stars and lamps
Shaking edges of the air

The name of the auburn leaves
Like my face
Like your arm
Like the sea
Like the color of the sky
Like my dreams
Tinged with red

Robin Wyatt Dunn writes

not the piece where you were right
and not the light inside
not which or were
and not the truth
not the burden of the ruth

the sound of the epiphany
with its rustling robes
shaking round the ceiling's dome
metal shaking out its cloak

a small signal down into my neck
clicking slow into the lock against the flint
whose spark
bilious green
floods the marsh

Robin Wyatt Dunn writes

If we consider the Canadians
The question is:
what can you do with slaves who don't want to be free?
when you tire of the face of the slave
and no longer want to feed him

Robin Wyatt Dunn writes

Now boundless with rage

If we should part,

Me with my sanity and you with your habit,

bristling and popping under your waistcoat,

we should fuel the night,

anarchic

and holy

rubbed over our faces,

loam and blood

the grand arbiter

shining dark over the sky

his dimpled hat

frightening in its simplicity

we can draw every curve

of your dress

of your enemy's dress

and watch for them to meet

in the alley

Separation II -- Edvard Munch

Robin Wyatt Dunn writes

so often we depend on what we can't see

the Rick Moranis who is living under our bed

and the patient subway driver

saluting our corpse

it's the glove over the dark

serene

unknowable and free

loving you

even in death

when we watch and wait

for all the quiet things to come awake

Robin Wyatt Dunn writes

break and hold away
more each day
and only
not stuck nor stern
but glowing red
like my heart

fear the day's embrace
all wet and shaded
hear the night waiting over the side of your mind

dear heart
wait

take the message long and slow
I wrote it for you

Love Song 8.6 -- Cynthia Kaufman  Rose