we’ll be first.
wait for a slow walk
to wind its way
through the trees,
a mystery of heat.
the border of the apartment
at the open window
smells and acts like over
the boundary is warped
from sun exposure
i lean in , nose into it to check
trust me
imageposts
monolith
i give you what you dream
for a long time
the eggshell sky fights
the bell.
rise
but in the morning
some things want
some demand
some imply
i have no time for these.
i with my jigsaw puzzles
and my dark floating mysteries
my rattling bus home
my tender shopping list
from which the evening mist appears
Election Day: pt. 3
and it’s only late evening here
but there’s always a spin from the other side
and a drunk yelling
always makes sense
to the ears of the room
it’s gonna be a close one
it’s going to take a while to figure out what we’ve said
what did we expect?
when we’ve fed the projections
and the polls
gone to the booths split
spilt
letting another typo decide the fate of the nation
notes from high summer pt. 3
The heat.
The buildings make
the shade and the shade
makes a public
space possible
wintry mix
glistening object
where is your shrine?
whom will you ask for
shelter as the day wears on?
are we killers, are we safe?
i’ve lost my close eye;
i must appeal
to the vast emptiness inside all of us
late at night
I pour over the thesaurus
for synonyms for universe
the cars wait as long as they need to
i’ll rust, they seem to say.
sirens and two by fours and a thick yellow
light covering the herd
pictures start small and get bigger,
this is no mystery
black highways pt. 5
but not until i was in the barnes and noble realizing
i sweat through my clothes
listening to the highway love unlimited album
trying to make out the letters on the tote bag
realizing i wasn’t wearing a mask
that no one was wearing a mask
o
gasping
Sunshine and Wind 