On Holiday

One must put one’s ear to a stone
To hear the axis of Jupiter,
Or a volleyball game in Canada.

Or be on holiday to string
Oh so elaborately
Lights around a black hole.

Even if black holes lack
The ability to look up
And acknowledge such a feat.

Bravo to every dandelion! I agree, it’s spring.

And there are holiday lights around black holes!

And so what if dandelions end up like gray haired stars
At night on the city lawn.

Are finished with what they have to say.

Bare Feet, Verses, Earth

Who drank the last

Of the halos? Deliberately made it rain?

Stole old purses from graffiti


Who lit fire to the last of the rocks?

Knowing very well that this storm

Is bare feet, verses, earth.

Like fireflies

Opening doors,

The spring wind

Counting knives.

I adhere to berry and branch,

Leaf, sunlight in the arteries,

Theater wire and the stars.

Dynamic Simplicity

I carry a paper bag of flowers, the petals are blue, yellow, and orange,

Early flowers, the bag is a sandwich bag, it’s dawn,

I put the flowers in a basket and bike home, the sky is blue, orange, and yellow,

My wild face, in momentum, how is the dawn somehow starry after all the stars are put away?

How is it, just for a second, this wild face among the stars, on a bike, with flowers

For the dining room table, to be with books, and pencils, and to have breakfast with,

Encourage me to open the windows, they are the better part of me, for a few days,

In which time, I’ll write what seems to be stream of consciousness poems, better yet,

I’ll put on my canvas shoes and walk till my stomach growls

For the fire and fever of tasteless stars.