Household Songs: The Brief and Unremarkable Life of Joseph Clarence Strauss/XII

Hands–puckered, pale, and patched–
slowly grow stiff
in the geometric sea that once kept
them warm.

All branches are struck by
time’s uncontrollable thunder.
Incomplete trees line landscapes, clinging fiercely to
shifting earth.

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Household Songs: The Brief and Unremarkable Life of Joseph Clarence Strauss/XI

Her magisterial gaze ensures that
two inattentive eyes
remain in the dark, polluted streets of
Lantern Yard.

Winged lambs, daubed in bronze,
flit past plasmic
lace organelles, waging a shameless battle for
restless minds.

Household Songs: The Brief and Unremarkable Life of Joseph Clarence Strauss/X

A corrugated carnation
attempts to coax stubborn antagonists
out from the moist recesses of a
commuted cavern.

wiggle – jiggle – aah!
Warriors clad in ivory overcoats
solemnly prepare for the long-awaited successors
to ascend.

Household Songs: The Brief and Unremarkable Life of Joseph Clarence Strauss/IX

Coarse cobwebs, cradled in cotton,
divide sunshine and
smiling spies from a rambunctious band of
miniature moppets.

Skin, spinning in the wind,
grazes daffodil silk;
from two callow hearts, sharp auric arrows
are pulled.

Household Songs: The Brief and Unremarkable Life of Joseph Clarence Strauss/VII (reblog)

This was written before I decided to turn the Strauss poems into a series.  It is now the sixth poem in the collection.

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A chubby, bronzed thumb plucks
needless tears from
a flushed face, discarding them quickly onto
the ground.

Commanded to supper, he gallops
past muted white
bells as April’s fleeting sweetness runs down
his chin.

Household Songs: The Brief and Unremarkable Life of Joseph Clarence Strauss/IV

When he beholds the anguish
of his ally,
hot, briny rivers begin to gush from
quivering eyes.

The caustic thorn which punctures
a cherished one
will crush your own heart into a
thousand fragments.

Household Songs: The Brief and Unremarkable Life of Joseph Clarence Strauss/II

Two cumbersome drumsticks slap against
oak boards, straining
to turn their aimless rhythm into a
graceful cadence.

At last, the unyielding determination
of youth tumbles
onto an emerald labyrinth of rose leaves
and cries.