New Poetry: The Destruction Loops (Parts 1 & 2)

1

point on a circle
where                quick breath meets
regret

same point often
labeled
            youth

to name is
                 to own
but i do not call
such overlap
                    //sexiness of fouling up//

mine

just graphite       and smudge

   exquisite, enjoyed rotation
       around a wrong axis

2  (for my grandfather)

the tug of cattled acres, grave-
    yard of hasty dogs yanked

from beneath you -
    a clown's eventual chef d'oeuvre

   that leaves cutlery & oranged
   bowls at attention

   while the table beneath shivers

    exposed.

your new frontier: chemicals,
   corrugated halls, a first

taste of stillness - still
  though, your waking

  in the dark. still your reaching
  hand, its landing on the milk pail.

sorting through your workshop,
violation swelling in my mouth

like a bitten tongue,
     i find my remnants - poem -
     the one that watched
     you mourn a season

     of lost tobacco.

then,  as now, your musical pulse.
your eyes as some deft

    other starts to tug.