Now
Earfuls of green stars
Carry me home.

Past the torsos of yellow
Yesterdays.

Now
I am the dust they will dig up.

I probe the menus
Of existential twigs.

Hello god’s knuckles.

The sun is a deaf bullet.
An arson of thighs and elbows.

A sabotage of finality
Dressed in an abacus.

Of lost anecdotes
Wrestled alive.

yesterday I swallowed a solar system, put on my boots, didn’t say goodnight to anyone

from bed, through the window, a rhombus of birds on parallel lines

today I sketched the square roots of my favorite numbers, brushed my teeth, chattered over coffee: I held the umbrella (rain)

I opened a book, I opened two books, then walked the tracks to just outside the city, smoked a joint

belly flops are obtuse with beauty – the swagger of thunder begins in the heels – goldenrod and the last of the tee shirts

tomorrow the hours will wear a cursive necktie into the distance of lost handclaps

We were nothing
We were only the best

A duration
Molecular connotation

The fragrance of falling

June fractals
Lifting the moon

Primitive words
Planting stars

Hand
Gestures of sky

And everything that is less and more
Than everything

it may have been the late
afternoon on the walls in my room
of two windows and a table a
small trembling
that if given a chance
and the time
reduce mountains to plains
but how it worked on me
it opened the doors to stones
and earth
doors i made buried long ago
or haven’t yet ready to find
a scalding surprise a menacing reminder
on orange-red wings
of the terrifying birth of stars

an ulcer of sunshine quivers
in my blood
and i am shot to my limits,
where scrambling for personality
i disregard the urge to cap this boast,
from the treetops of the moon
with secret arms i
scream delicious ankles
equal to a marathon of
leaves