I Never Imagined

I never imagined

a lip

could

taste so

far

into

silence.

Where was

I last

    night

in

her

embrace?

Sunlight is deranged

in comparison

to her

smirk.

And

I still

love the sun

more than the

  money

I’ll

   never

make

enough

of

to feel

sufficiently

coiffed

of spirit.

Live

for this,

and never sorrow,

trying.

Lyrically the Brown

Lyrically the brown

dish towel

bent

in

half,

draping

over the rung

side of my kitchen

cart,

is alive

because I sing

      so

in the dawning

key

of a prospecting

memory.

Maybe a shimmering

lake

or an awake

   eye

    or nullifying, a

goodbye,

would spell easier

than

dun

simplicity; if

     I scoured

the use

away.

As He Passed Murphy’s

As he passed Murphy’s

  Tavern, the bouncer

      rose

      from the black

stool

in the doorway

and folded

his large,

white

arms.

Tempted

to pause

      and glare,

he kept

walking.

Turning

the Glock

around

in his pocket,

he held

it

by

the

cold

barrel,

and rested

his thumb

against

the hollow

opening,

to quiet

his

fear.

Verily the Blue

Verily the blue

Gatorade

bottle

sits

atop

the beige

   metal

       control

          box

in the center

of the three-story

construction

site.

It is raining

and the workers

are gone for

the day.

Mostly

empty,

        I’m

surprised

the plastic

bottle

hasn’t

blown away.

Concrete and steel

girders

are

the ground

below and all

       around,

     pulsing

with

change.

 

Renaissance of the Mind

Renaissance of the mind,

hold

my

shivering

disbelief,

under the warm

water

of

your

recoveries

until

    I am

a baptized

beginner

of

lark.

Every

sunset

is a bold

statement

in dangerous

clarity

against

the established

religion

    of talking

through

    it.

Let’s have an adventure

that doesn’t rhyme

with yesterday

or tomorrow,

in

silk

and sundry.

Wildlife

They were sitting

on the Class of 1953

log,

facing

Monroe, the better

girl’s dormitory

on campus,

eating

watermelon

Jolly Rancher

sticks they’d stolen

from 7-11 earlier that

morning. “Maybe she’s

already

gone

to breakfast,”

said the larger boy.

A gray squirrel darted

in front of their

waiting

with

an acorn

bulging

from

its

mouth.

There’s an Invisible

There’s an invisible

cluster

of

stars

on the ceiling

in some

little

kid’s

room

that appear

in the darkness.

Unlike

the truth

which remains

invisible for centuries

of revolutions

of light,

until

it

blossoms

into a mountain

over night and through

the day.

Call

it hearsay

if you like; or

climb

for

the impossible

    views.

Men in Chartreuse

Men in chartreuse

and orange

vests

are building

a wall between

my

window

and the sky.

I close my curtain

and camouflage

goodbye.

In the poem that will appear in the journal,

I stop here, and wave to consciousness,

alone

on the platform.

Am I leaving

or

is she

staying? All

this dust

is

blinding.

She Asked Him

She asked him

to relight

her

extinguished

American Spirit.

He rose from the bench

to access

his

corduroy

pocket, where

his argentine zippo

was

embedded

among coins,

kleenex and receipts,

or so he remembered.

Unable to locate

the source

of fire,

in either

pant or jacket

pocket, “use this,”

he said, handing

her

his

own.

Some Girl Somewhere

I was sitting

in the dark

as

usual,

considering

my invisible hand,

when eternity—

or

rather,

one of her

denominations—flipped

the light

on,

and

I was kind

to myself

for

awhile,

because

I couldn’t

hide,

in recalcitrance.

Some girl somewhere

is charming

some

boy

with

a bigger

word, than

his fascination

has

ever

heard.