Green takes me to WA
where they all know my name, see
and where I hike the beach
Blue, the light city
arondissements aplenty
and no address, yet
Gold, I've got rivers
between rocks, heading to sea
stretching, warming, good
O, in red, the deep
lines and delicious, brushes,
the tunnel round the bend
Make it colorful,
join and splash them, lick the rocks
all will turn bright white
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
underneath that tin
Just say it, she says
say it and wait. It will come.
Ready for something.
***
You won't do for me.
So easily decided,
she said to herself.
***
Underneath that tin,
and that charming toothy grin,
you've got naught but talk.
***
Underneath your ribs,
behind your submarine fibs
there is little might.
***
Underneath my skin,
no matter what form I'm in,
there find something new--
say it and wait. It will come.
Ready for something.
***
You won't do for me.
So easily decided,
she said to herself.
***
Underneath that tin,
and that charming toothy grin,
you've got naught but talk.
***
Underneath your ribs,
behind your submarine fibs
there is little might.
***
Underneath my skin,
no matter what form I'm in,
there find something new--
Saturday, November 15, 2008
night lights and shorts in November
Night lights, shifting trees
sirens roaring through the breeze
this was my commute.
***
Shorts in November
Like a temperate desert
inside our condo.
(Wish I hadn't traded my camel for a stick of gum just the other day.)
My lips, oil'd at night
in the morning have turned tight
because they are dry.
We've tried the nobs, sure
we've bled the ancient heaters
and still we are baked.
Though I don't complain--
o, I'm no longer sane, but
It's a warm winter.
sirens roaring through the breeze
this was my commute.
***
Shorts in November
Like a temperate desert
inside our condo.
(Wish I hadn't traded my camel for a stick of gum just the other day.)
My lips, oil'd at night
in the morning have turned tight
because they are dry.
We've tried the nobs, sure
we've bled the ancient heaters
and still we are baked.
Though I don't complain--
o, I'm no longer sane, but
It's a warm winter.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
balloters' bikes
We took the 'L' to the garden in the City,
a bit past half after nine
where droves of balloters hurried their gaits
to join the bunching, to stand and wait
for a figure on the over-large screen.
they'd heard that the phone call had come in
their grins now had something of glee
it was certain for them already
and so they had only to see.
their bikes hooked like vines against fences
faces turned, like flies to a light
hats tilted, knees bobbing, pointed lenses
it would be a momentous night.
giants, they were on friends' shoulders;
daring, shouted their pride,
as their new national leader
had come from their own South Side,
had offered a really good ride--
and had won
by a most uplifting
Landslide.
A leader who'd promised a dream.
a bit past half after nine
where droves of balloters hurried their gaits
to join the bunching, to stand and wait
for a figure on the over-large screen.
they'd heard that the phone call had come in
their grins now had something of glee
it was certain for them already
and so they had only to see.
their bikes hooked like vines against fences
faces turned, like flies to a light
hats tilted, knees bobbing, pointed lenses
it would be a momentous night.
giants, they were on friends' shoulders;
daring, shouted their pride,
as their new national leader
had come from their own South Side,
had offered a really good ride--
and had won
by a most uplifting
Landslide.
A leader who'd promised a dream.
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