Category Archives: Poems

We gazed out the window at playtime, onto a small bulbous rainbow.
But fertilizer became expensive in application and
stones were actuated to the surface snapping stems in two.

Later we remembered a remodeled room, with drenched bed sheets and somber drapery that obfuscated sunlight.

She sought out light buried by sylvan suffering
and caressed comforting children from shrieking
to a tender tapping of parsimony.

Mona Louise should always be spoken to if you see her riding on the train.

The brown bear sauntered along the sand.
His enormous roar reverberated
the cautious crystals from their kindness.

I never knew how to respond to you.

A guru spoke to you and you
    danced with a skull pierced friendly man.
He spoke to me as well and said
    that I should examine the golden sun.
I saw the radiance on a crooked snowman
    that became the latest stream.

We ate the taste of rotting cow manure
and smiled so wide as to expose our teeth –
mine had coffee stains from too much labor
and yours were filled with gentle glows.

Glass bottles were emasculated in a large plastic can.
We let them know
we let them know that they would
no longer be a part of our lives – we let them know.

And a soul, wandering about, needed help leaving his house,
so we gripped his quivering hands and pulled him through the glass.
Looking at our unshaven faces, he lay there, bloodied on the street.
His claret lead him to revelry and we spoke softly of his absence.

We had to wish each other a happy birthday. We had to. It would be decades before we were born.

————
For Anton

Railroad designs were not sketched on the missing paper we found, but
floral pictures of architects designing others were, and
in the attic T.Rex jackets and ripped jeans were momentarily worn.

This evaporated during the implosion the following morning.

you look at me
i glance at you
you point at me
i nod at you
you smile at me
i know what to do
there is scaffolding
and scotch, silk sheets,
skywaves, and singing
and a fade out. . .

we kissed at the end of the film
your eyes closed, your arms internal
your thoughts of brazen streets and cloudy nights
my stubble leaving marks on your wan cheek

______________
for meghan

The vermillion paint splattered on Shavon’s white t-shirt
was preceded by the ricochet of a back firing Volvo
that awoke us from my slumber.

I held you tightly and knew your old Mexican dreams were new to you.