when one hand
tries to hold itself
it makes a fist
when one hand
tries to hold itself
it makes a fist
Life is long
Death is fast
Take your time
You’ll be back
each morning
i go to the stream
and glean
the magic messages
from the face of the water
and see with thousand-eyes
and careful to touch very little
i pass my psalms along
in quiet paper boats
that bob and jerk down
the course of that
weird, living water
red
light
burned
a hole in the afternoon and
her cherry pulsed at the end
of her cigarette and the flame snapped out
in my mind cause she pulled up
in her coal black
decommissioned Crown Vic
police cruiser thumping her wrist to the beat
breathing smoke out her nostrils
popping pink
bubblegum like her hair
curtained over her bare breasts
check it out man
green
light
gone
fat, black,
fat-tailed scorpion
trapped, clicking in a glass bottle
in the junk yard
in Rabat –
beside the speckled
tar-flecked beach
.
mom calls my brother
then me
the white adobe
home pulls us
and the glass jar disappears
in a weave of hands
hey, toss my soccer ball back
.
the red god dips
his head under the ocean
so blue and blue
forever out there
beneath the golden purple
angels in the sky
and a white crescent smiles under the earth