such gravel, steel, that rebar
against the dead stars?
☯
Small plane overhead
and a worn van’s chittering
usher out the sun
☯
Empty ice-cream pint
in this, I’ve cultivated
exactly one ant.
☯
Atop dinosaurs
we prance; who can say what, shall
caper over us?
☯
Just gone to purple
the upper sky through my blinds
pale blue over West.
☯
I begin putting
it all together; almost
done, at the green light.
☯
Canned soul singer,
Dixieland street trumpet,
join downtown midair
☯
Terry Hall’s windows
how much they’ve seen; do they catch
that tear of the wrecker?
☯
Decades of students…
now nothing sits inside save
the grinding machines
☯
Daylight Savings, spring
I’m late to the library
on time for the sun.
☯
On a bench with this
guitar; awaiting rebuke…
only the softball field
☯
“Softball’s silly”–and
he stole my lover, so he
must know everything.
☯
Two-hour wait for
the top of the queue,
wrestling Quetzalcoatl
☯
The truck, downshifting
thick chuffle of the air brakes
a pause in the wind
☯
Five ones, he wants
and will he haunt downstairs
ever after, for them?
☯
The sun dries out my
drowned world, warms my toes; I’ll leave
dishes, to insects.
☯
My brother’s birthday
a Portuguese singer soothes
pricked anxiety
☯
The cherry blossoms!
I pity He who grows bored
of them–wait, is that…?
