-
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 pianoin the garden, where she played
for no one
but the daffodilsand 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.