by Jennifer Lemming
Blue dragon who is body-looped, tire-ridges scales
are spiraling blue fire, hot tailpipe heat
on the side of some yellow brick garage.
Blue dragon, riding on top of eternal waves of internal combustion coils,
energy supports orthographic script - maybe Japanese,
maybe your own language,
on top of your own language,
on the side of a garage in east Los Angles.
Showing posts with label Jennifer Lemming. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jennifer Lemming. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Brother Raven
by Jennifer Lemming
I met you at the Pow Wow, your hair not afro’d
but in long braids and your soft spoken words
telling me of your families coming together.
Later that day I see four ravens in a tree,
waiting for a sunset, moonrise or a breeze.
I ask them “what are your signs?”
A mouse , a lizard, a worm, a pecan.
I watch them taking flight,
with the stars of the Milky Way
reflecting off their black.
I met you at the Pow Wow, your hair not afro’d
but in long braids and your soft spoken words
telling me of your families coming together.
Later that day I see four ravens in a tree,
waiting for a sunset, moonrise or a breeze.
I ask them “what are your signs?”
A mouse , a lizard, a worm, a pecan.
I watch them taking flight,
with the stars of the Milky Way
reflecting off their black.
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