Flushed through the sprung door on the geyser of water erupting through the floorboards, Hagerty dislocated his shoulder, cracked two ribs, fractured the pinkie finger on his right hand, and the EMTs were concerned about brain damage as they lifted him into the ambulance, for he kept reaching out with his good arm, moaning, trying to hold the trashed possibilities, the raw promise of that glorious woman in the new Mercedes, now purring into the distance.

Obsession

The flower in the shark’s brain

has been perfect for a million years.

The dragon-bloom blood poppy,

carnal and brief,

tattooed at the base of her spine.

The poppy I cut when the petals fall away

to gather the milky lotus of her tears.

Cut in the heat of the day,

blade spiraled around bulb,

fragrant milk

drying black in the sun.

In my mind. In my need

to possess the dense flowering

in my dreams at her breast.

As the shark hits the swimmer,

shaking him apart in its jaws.

Dreams of power and the perfect release

from pain. The bright

flower of it. Blood

blooming in the water,

swirling in her green eyes

like flame.

The hypnotic petal and silk

of her body moving with mine,

the arc of pleasure between dreams

as the poppy blossoms inside me

with the viciously exquisite clarity of obsession.

Diamond condensed a dimension.

Blood expanding as it freezes.

Love Find

After the Oklahoma City bombing,

search-and-rescue dogs

were flown in with their handlers

from all over the U.S.

But when the dogs couldn’t find

any survivors

they became disconsolate,

and after another day of nothing

but dead bodies,

if they’d even search

it was desultory at best.

So the handlers began taking turns

hiding in the rubble,

letting the dogs find them alive.

Flux

Driven by the wild equilibrium

at the dynamo core of every thermal exchange,

the cool coastal air,

drawn off the Pacific by the rising Valley heat,

flows inland over the ridge,

and the wind comes up.

Down in the garden

the stalk of a sunflower quivers,

bowed seed head

ready to spill.

Thanks for the Dance

I applaud the way you Pony.

Dig the way you Twist.

Tremble when you hum along

“Do you like it like this?”

I adore the way you Shimmy,

The way you say “Yeah,”

But I live to watch you

Rumba in your underwear.

The Stone

Of two great masters,

They say one died serenely,

A little smile on his face;

The other screaming his head off,

Terrified of death.

There are no conclusions to reach.

The stone falls

Till it hits the earth.

Woman in a Room Full of Rubber Numbers

A woman sits in a straight-backed chair

in a room full of rubber numbers

that move like molecules

near absolute zero. Slower

than slow motion they hit

the square room’s walls

and rebound randomly away

to hit another wall, the ceiling, floor, or her,

and away rebound randomly