Blue Blue
Lapful of cumulus in
French-blue sky
Pink baby pendules
do not rain
Sun conks out
sa-low
sa-low
All guidance pre-lingo’s
petty shawl
Wine stain infests
in some wise
the ramp I re-dream on
Few specks
not of light
Every August
nose falls
Many ticks
Now’n then tock
Times behind me
lose factuality
Vigor in memory
pleases some
Feels as if heaven
is open today
Heavy air sticks
to hot body
Living room tree
pleads water
Too-tired minuet
Mosquitos kiss
Blue blue dark
Nifty Walls
Harbor so far
Night in a jar
Lightning will be
lightning afterall
I wear my pants as well
as pants people do
My sarong says where
I sleep
Wets me not, the sky
Streetside trees
too, too dry
I replace my bib
with a spray
of fireballs
No shit, what a night
I been wonder
kwaz the name
you looking for?
It’s Burns?
From what I still see
rayon velour, nifty
walls in these halls
Wouldn’t butter melt
Fie on your mopeds
Fie your snot
At sea, me
unfocused desire
Stairs make sounds
not my pogo stick
Inside the door
my teeth are gold
Bugs
Trees less filthy after violent rain
Ships ride in moon rings
All of Olympus the Vedic crew and relativists
swallow soft matter
Safe house stinks of Shinola
Some noisome relic behind my eyes
Panty line of blue dips between street facades
So few children braid street door numbers anymore
Matrilineal dialects gone makes bugs in my head
Vapid mainlanders unaware walk on hand-helds
Make me merciful O Dog in pandemonium
integrity and ill health to forgive those
who do not know they are surrounded
As-Good-As-Mine
Breath-temp gust moist lips late with runny hours
Pre-existing borders I can’t tell from
rhymes I hear in a vacuum
Roscoe comes on after dark air heats waves up
Let’s say my next step is finality and
the one after is empty staves
By autumn I don’t mean powdered bones
don’t mean uproot olives
Decline tells in a tarnished yellow on masonry
Shawls in late afternoon fruit plucked with insight
Multicolor ladders wait for frost
How many earth days equal winner take all
Horizon at your-guess-as-good-as-mine level
Leery dissent of the glut come to rest mid rotation
In all directions unhoneyed speech
Table shines under your hand that spreads like
a puppet airman on the last planet he would ever expect
Granite Bowels
I count lit windows
Less dread sparkles on lapels
Water whirls by river railing and
first-quarter moon clings
like an off-white crawling man
I cut myself off at the Sunoco
I imagine myself sun-baked lizard
When I am young and flight then
is more than survival
Now it is to defend pillow case
and boudoir of a goddess
Trace of black lip gloss
in her granite bowels
Acute feelings of my body
don’t come from my body anymore
Glass and steel without glass humors me
Die or cover my head with scaffolds
Foreboding is a comic kind of reckless
So, I want ululating grief?
Far from frontlines far from peace
America
