• The Cardboard

    The cardboard

    minutes

    are

    a flimsy

    raft as I wait

    for the answer,

    drifting further out.

    The benevolence the

    more seasoned

    philosopher

    said

    was

    coming

    is coming,

    like mythology

    to buttress everything.

    Three

    two

    one,

    nothing

    can explain

    why they left

    to settle elsewhere

    at the very equinox

    over

    the void

    of tranquility,

    my summertime.

  • Pacific Notion

    A cigarette

    butt amid stones

    on the breezy

    beach relaxes

    from usefulness.

    Nobody owns

    the orangeness

    of a sunset.

  • All for the Tuft

    The whole thing is,

    I guess, growing

    way beyond whack

    harmoniously,

    like an old tree

    overleaning

    with new phrases.

  • Scanning for Rhyme

    The flannel shirt

    hanging on the

    wall in the bar

    like a killing

    vindicates all

    &$%#hood as shorn

    of its ultra.

  • Mellowing Idyll

    Basilique

    du Sacré-Cœur,

    I’m still walking

    toward your Montmartre

    in the gloaming

    for actual

    distilling air.

  • Conundrum Close-up

    Why do certain people bounce

    up and down when they walk, like

    they are trying to leave earth

    and failing, to stay?

  • Stowaway to the Star


    There was a piano

    in the garden, where she played

    for no one


    but the daffodils

    and the Japanese maple,

    and the memory of one who cared.

  • I’m Looking

    I’m looking

    in the mirror

    of a Pink Floyd

    lyric

    again,

    because

    it’s summer

    and my body

    remembers

    when.

    In Cascade,

    a neighborhood

    in Seattle, east of

    South Lake Union,

    there is an old church

    I admire whenever

    I walk past, and

    never go

    into.

    I wonder

    how the dance

    will

    win

    in the end.

  • Descending the Hill

    A recently

    vacated seat

    on the #

    8 bus is mine

    suddenly, and

    I’m knowing heat

    from some body.

  • Pink of the Prow

    Previously

    holds every now

    in her fragrance

    as soon-to-be

    opens the shore

    to anyhow

    from endlessly.