Untitled (Dream Poem)

Maybe you have everything arranged just right

but then what can you do 

when you look over at
a boy much bigger than an atom

and he hangs his head
and asks about a missed circus?

Wisdom

I held the hand

of silk

and sand

And her laughter bubbled

thick

and unfamiliar

Like a lobster

emerging

from the muck.

Untitled (Wintry Poem)

With concerted effort

the desert sky

can 

cough up

a few snowflakes

that are quickly

swallowed

by the thirsty earth.

But here,

a casual sky

spits

-- bleeds --

snow.

Even the air

sweats 

snowflakes that multiply like bacteria,

colonizing the ground

in no time.

It’s very gratifying.

Solitude

Dry leaves stampede

And ragged windy fingertips

Scatter sunlight’s frozen ashes

And we point with raw hands

And lift bowed heads

To whisper to each other,

“Snow…”

And then it is winter.