lecture halls, pulpits, and a trillion stars

Beyond

Beyond cubicles and ninety-degree angles are
bare arms and burning fingertips curling in the cold breeze

Behind shotgun smoke is
an explosion of fossils and flame

Inside the monsters that heave and sigh are
expanding - contracting - expanding bodies - contracting - that
look, smell, fall ill, and repair themselves

Around the bottom of this bowl are
walls of rocky fires, burning and dieing

Under the watchful eye security peck
pigeons for seeds and ants

Through the pavement push
promising blades, hopeful sproutlings

Within the rushing hectic city, a
casual breeze

Outside the thunder of military helicopters,
heaven

Against the sky's true blue,
complimentary orange

Leaves flicker, then - snip - flutter off

Capturing our impermanence,
8

Morning Cup

A girl browsing
coffeeshop products,
a switch.
She becomes
graceful, delicate.
Her wrist goes limp
in lady-like nonchalance,
her purse held round the fold of her elbow;
her cheeks narrow,
her lips pirch in pouting curiosity,
and her hips sway to each side,
further than before
she noticed me
watching.

Carry the Weight

Car horns blast off as insults
and a jostling of another's dignity
is grounds enough for
tirading gestures,
a shove, and
plenty of shouts.

Patience is for Buddha
and Jesus.

These are Buddhists and Christians.

How to get on?


This dry month mocks
my lips
with a day's shower.
It only wets my feet to
chill my toes
through my bones

and the shivering skeletons
face brutal winds against
torso and limbs.

They weep daggers and hold
sickly, snow-draped arms.

The breath of street-beasts and
the breath of sidewalks
mix
in frozen conversation.

Car horns and sirens are bare knuckles
knocking frozen metal.