A potato left
out on my counter one month
exudes malfeasance
☯
How like wild mushrooms
those thick twisted bread slices
thrown down for the crows
☯
I cannot get used
to mottled clouds not moving
north past the tall pine
☯
The Golden Rule–fuck!
Give no mercy and take none!
…how loud, this echo?
☯
From the back, muscles
in his arm flex lightly
as he strums and frets
☯
Pantomime to bum,
two bus tickets for one smoke
deal done and all dance
☯
Curly-haired, he boasts
“I am traveling the world!”
…even where no smokes lie?
☯
Leaning on his gut
well, at least that way he won’t
fall over on himself
☯
The levels of blessing
measured from small increments
to satisfaction
☯
I would take the heart
pumping like crazy, over
“under construction”
☯
…leaving me to find,
at the parking lot, the place
where the rain slowed down
☯
s/he squats in the lot
a Cossack waiting to kick
south of the sunbreak
☯
Tried to bin bottle
of beer; broke it on sidewalk
tattoo man shames me
☯
Ghost crab in Thailand
eyes on stalks; does she feel for
feet trudging past her?
☯
Clamshell takeout box
open wide-jawed to the sun
standing rainwater
