Monday, September 22, 2014


Id like to sling tht ball through galaxies/
past gulfs of time/
into my brothers gloved hand/
hear tht satisfying POW of leather oil n skin/
scuffed with dirt/
off-white ball of displaced memory/
quickened by the long tears/
sadness grown from growing old/
in fields of calm green/
swaying gently in super nova breeze/
a golden star smiling/
film of dirt over mouth eyes/
taste of earth and daring and gods/
Id like to wait for him to toss it back/
to start all over again.

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