saturday

snow has a way of falling
like rust bleeds from the bridge
in June, sleeves rolled up against
needled wind

I wanted to quote you as saying
how you never wanted to swim
never meant to swim never swam
through me, but that wasn't what

you said now was it?  and I, I
became jack slawed slack jawed
while staring back at it.

six words

I think | I need | to cry

music mem'ry

heard through my window:
"southern summer nights maybe
it was you maybe"

end scene

webbed and caught in
the glare of camera flash

like they remember Polaroid film?
yeah no, they don't.

Arkansas maybe, chased to edges
of maps lost in rental cars, choking

down perfume in plastic bottles,
orange peels and brined pickles

conspiracy theories abound:
presidents and popes and pussy

as if any of this makes sense
after 12.

nostalgicism

My hair's still wet from the rain

 

I can't shake the

landscape blurring by
 

like yesterday, in a way, dry brush and mountain walls giving way to bougainvillea and driveways, ocean vistas flashing to expanse of sky, your cheek, sun flare.
 

And then I think:
 

do you remember riding in the car at night as a kid, head against window and craned up, streetlights at odd angles streaming by and how you'll never forget or mistake the sound of skateboard wheels on sidewalk. First rain of the season, stretching in bed in the morning, cats purring
 

and landscape blurring by.

poetic brilliance a la Facebook

Imagine my utter thrill at finding these gems, almost in a row, on my fb newsfeed just now:

Four, if tug boats count.  (Sherry O'Keefe)

Sometimes I just want to curl up and grey.  (Jim Wittenberg)

as if gravity wouldn't apply / in such yellow moments (Dorothee Lang)

other bodies

you look primitive he said
that morning.  my shirt
and shorts had cleaved
apart revealing a vague and
pale canyon of hip, hinting
at storms to come.

crossbreed

yes:  to wear feathers
stabbed into shoulder
                    and nape
arms flung wide
fledging towards the fall
                        for flight.

but bones unhollow
anchor the body down:
we'll have to make do
with a cackle looped twice
                  'round the hips.