Light steadies the ankles. Darkness readies the knees.

Darkness is a box of pins. Light the ghosts of future stars.

Light sounds out words, creates space. Darkness kneads.

Darkness is the immanence of distance and the ongoing retrieval of it.

Light stitches bones into the soul. Light is the darkness when you blink.

The wind is cheap poems through barbwire parasols.

But what are the footfalls of electromagnetic touchdowns?

Infinity
Walks on
Tip toes

Sometimes

For now.

~

If you have access to
Another universe

Collect mirrors.

Put each poem in your mouth.
But don’t be a liar.

~

The exact present
Is

Subatomic.

Probability before pattern.

And so,

In winter make ghosts,
In spring play in the mud.

I write poems like a disguise.
I bicycle and I am genius at washing
The dishes.

My favorite science fiction movie

The spider
Out grows the house,

You find out in middle age you have an imaginary friend,

The city
Birds are one big computer.

~

So much of writing

Is conjuring something to do.

Standing aside

Exhaling into a paper bag.

Till it grows like a startled child

In the wind like a crack in the sidewalk.

It’s springtime between the stars.

Into the calligraphy

Of anti-skyscrapers

Called verse.

~

In the city field, headlong on the rails, a few spray painted
Stars on the passing train.

Each finger of the moon rattles like a windy day.

~

Opaque like a
Snap of the fingers

Arranged for guitar
Duo

The ghosts in your hair
Have misplaced their x-rays

Branded by
A bicycle moon
That began as an apple blossom.

Cells divide, stars turn.

The imprint is

Cosmic.

We are as close to the infinitesimal as we are to the infinite,

Till we are cathedrals of memory, empty when empty, but never gone.

Walking home,

A celestial roughness around

The eyes.

~

If I have bothered to note a bird
Or two on a power line, some flowers
In a vacant lot for flowering, I have
Done so heedlessly and without regard
For the safety of those around me.

A Poem-

Like a road in a dream.

Almost no gas left, and the universe is old.

Above the seasick brick houses

The moon bends without making a sound.

Everywhere the universe begins.

~

Autumn-

Simple like a comb
Or some bricks in the bathtub.

~

Of Spring (now faraway)-

I miss

Your sense
Of gravity.

~

Unfinished-

To personify subtle
Peel off the paint,

Find work that doesn’t pay,
Give your cash to beakers,

Light a torch,
Steal pollen from a bee.

Whatever you do
Don’t tell the truth.

There are no reasons,
But here are mine anyway.

If it should be the guts
Of October stars,
The not yet healed…

~

Just Saying-

A plasma giant 93 million miles from here

In some billions of years will engulf us

On its way to later phases of its life.

~

Last Lines-

Tonight’s sky is as subtle as changing a tire.

We are born of storms, not calm. And are as handsome as a thrown stone.

Conspiracies lack negative capability.

How to explain there is no end. And there never was a beginning.

The mountain is bigger than you
You are the mountain

The blue sky
And the moon
Are trees with roots

The mountain is
More than you can count

And yet as it rains
The rubbish of sunset
Is meet with the banter of stars

And still you listen

To the difference
Of who you are
And who you are not