All In Good Rhyme

tree moves
reveals an egg
outsourced in the
wilderness hated hollow
set out to pick figs in the garden
but buried instead in written late then
bansished to tragedy and amnsesia battles

with every new sun
a lapsing memory fades dimming
like dirtied glass

pain models in fast cars drifting on the bottom
of the pool overdosed on cocaine
gazing at the children of
powdery moons
too soon

each
fragment of a thing
its singed with connection
cracked actors jumping off rooftops
into media frenzy capitol
morals agape at the multitudes
more drama and photoshoots
to provide proof
she is sexy, dead and
beautifully aloof

Sleeping With The King Of Tome

the distance
if not for life leaking in
somehow becoming tragic
makes time pass slower
the wind blown by
like a firework into
air
falling against a rival sun rising fast
and desire...

babe, would you call me?

the face on the wall
trapped inside the clock
laughing like telescopes
someday promises
deigns to forecast hope folded
smashing doldrums

sometime in November
your pale face
your still embrace
some endless reminder of
what we share
in the
space.

This Is What I Look Like At 40

Delicate Atoms (with rejected structures)

delicate
a string of old lamp lights
across a wire
through which
can be seen other
twinkling city lights
dancing in thick prussian
saturated yellow
tiny fires
draw you into circles
where naked people
dance around
blazes for places
madness and strange faces
reflect time passing
cells exchanging carbons
atoms perpetually recreating
and exploding.