Walking Home

The late afternoon faints
With the metaphysical.

Reflections in puddles.

Even the universe is a hologram.

~

The wind
Has mass

Of dusk
On road,

Alive
Like a mountain,

A glacier
Pre-industrial.

The night is

The dusk

Out-pooled.

~

The self is a card trick
In the dark
Without hands,

Sweeping sidewalks for
Enlightenment.

Speaking drastically,
The oomph that is not the self.

I made a diorama
Of the Triple Lindy
And left it on a diving
Board.

The Ghosts of Future Stars

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?

The Laundromat Laureate

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.

Opus

Cello moon,
For broken piano.

If every raincoat was a time machine,

Apparitions of
Deja-vu.

Look!

An oboe jumping from a plane

Imitating an asteroid.

~

Explain this to me,
Why daisies have tusks
For a heart, and are ruthless
And yellow.

How the ground is green with loneliness,

Spilling over
With the joy of breathing its own song.

Explain the spring in footsteps,

How in the distance of your heart
You feel your heart
Take pause of the earth.

I hear the sidewalks rustle
In the still trees.

Living tigers for neckties. Under a penniless sky worth its weight in bold.