assam silvertip
the weeds in the parking strip clear the cardoor handles
and let’s just say we’re on a first-name basis
with rain. is this any way to spend my vacation–
dreaming of kisses past?
the weeds in the parking strip clear the cardoor handles
and let’s just say we’re on a first-name basis
with rain. is this any way to spend my vacation–
dreaming of kisses past?
o would that i had found the faith, fair portia,
to borrow the means to sail for such
as thee. instead i’ve clung to what i own:
the vanity of poetry
it’s midnight, yet the sky is evening-blue
two rings embrace the blinding moon
will i ever tire of describing the moon?
better ask the moon
cooling-car-songs. crispest sky. a cat
sips the moon from a street-puddle. what’s
that star in the south, tugging at my eyes
reminding me of…what?
loud drops fall from eaves
step out. near-full
moon burns hole through clouds
no thing more