20 September 2013


it's not the comforting heat
of the hot sheet metal
of the car door
under an arm propped
out the open window -
the panamints on the right -
speeding toward
stovepipe wells.

    - a self-shattering dream. you
know what i mean.

the unease is palpable in the
weight we all carry.

our collective breath: where does it lead?

yellow eyes -
tongue lolling,
as they say -

a fish in the sea
pursued for his life
by a bird who will
fly beneath waves.

these naked clouds that cover the

now is a good time to love
bare rock - the skeleton.

the feather pressed in amber
we are real.