luck young dog standing in the blocks four blue bills working in against a cigar smoke call once more around try to take them tree high shots tipped one and feathers out of another but the steel shot fails me they are gone like mad buddists westing to the timber only the grey spent…
You’re on the other side being abstract, acting distant, I have a stack of thoughts in front of me, unfinished; have poems to write, poems I should be writing; instead I’m writing this; an alarm goes off, it’s mine Saturday morning, you’re laying around somewhere, Cootie Williams is blowing Gator Tail;…
The time until you die grips the top of my hand grates my fingers against puckered metal collects skin and bone shavings into a soft pile on the good China. by Jane Juran …
Like lace Itsuki always dances behind cob webs There, he can manifest several shapes and pick which one he likes Sometimes I help him move, for he has no control over his particles He is like lace, weightless and transparent Sometimes I worry I will injure him if I want to kiss…
(truth-harmony-beauty: the necessary conditions to create or perceive a Bonsai) i In Santa Monica, on a crowded Promenade I stare at the tiny tree on the tilted cart At the silent, knuckle-thick trunk That angles impossibly down. Bristlecone Pine. Cascading. Dwarfed by pruning, training. I have been told: To see…
Let it burn until all that is left is a black crisp of dehydrated exoskeleton jerky. What do I care? I did not create this place. I did not ask to play this game. I did not stuff the coal shafts. I did not dig the oil wells. I did not clamor for the goldmines….
