Prediction

marked automatically;

    life passing within four walls

a leaky faucet of time

the overgrowth of yard

before the window

effortless and green

a million sown fields of pokeweed

glowing pink for a moment

in the stillborn sunrise

it's partly cloudy today

I am superimposed over this reality

there is rain in every imaginary forecast

time is a summer storm

before the window pane

the blackberries of july will become the winter's snow 

before I am gone

Summer

The next you'll see me
on that roadside
lookin' dirty but lookin' for a bite
a true bite unfettered by the
consumption culture
of city center logic, I'll be pointing
west to the pacific brother,
I'm an angel of the east tho,
truly watching it burn,
falling in love,
dying to care too much,

come on,

don't pass me by--
I'm a drop in the pan
undeveloped
nondescript
a waste on the money state
I saw HD on the horizon
talking to Zeus,
said she's writing a
pome for planet earth
said she's makin' her way back
from heaven to read,

Don't'cha know?

I can see the sunset
racing across the earth
as Sisyphus at the rock
crying, heavy;

Don't'cha see?

I'm unashamed of sadness.

For a Moment Just a Thought

We come full circle in the darkness
of a remembrance, beginning
somewhere ahead
at a table were I leave my poems,
wonderfully unfinished and decaying
in the after-light of fading summer days,
forgotten in passing we'll no doubt
wait for them, returning one-hundred fold
in a kind of blister wound of the brain,
coated in gold and light
burning unlikely bright in the night sky,
casting a shadow across our being
as beautiful as the sun.

Behind the fruit salad a simple meaningful love

I'm translating directions

and you laugh

like they're all a jumbled unpaved road,

or you hear and can't understand, 

static sentences thrown together

from the seat of my car,

silent understanding

draped across that bay bridge

curving up into the sky

like a horseshoe buried in the sand,

and the sky is raspberry fire

breathing and burning and pop,

leaving the sweet smell of fruit and salty oxygen

heavy weaving behind your eyes,

sweet almond dark eyes,

bending the rail toward me

in the shallows with waves twisting over,

through the final verse of a late-afternoon song 

and a just empty bottle of nameless pink wine, 

we find our way in the sweet/sour dawn.

Cream Soda

the body wash in my shower
smells exactly like cream soda,

the scent
is
unmistakable,

it reminds me
of warm summer nights
and Dum Dum
lollipops,

of jailbreak and lighted porches,

our laughter shattering
the
night, a curious
reflection marching through the dusk
as old ghosts slept

she never held my hand,
and I never asked,
the screen door
swung lazily behind us
back and forth,

the condensation on my glass
dampening my fingers,
the bottle on my lips
calming, cool,

into, out of the abyss
figures running toward us
in the
darkness,
we readied ourselves,
for,
in an instant
we
were
all
of
us
about
to
be
free