stream of consciousness – Page 5

and the city
becomes immersed in
a heat that
steams hair to curls
settles in with
one heavy
harumph, such
a grumpy old man
his joints
reacting
instinctively
to oppressive air
with a crackle.

Socialite on a Ferris Wheel

lambent dress laps
carnival lights
glowing in colors of a diamond
she rides
high above
spooning honeysuckle and
wearing fireflies
flippant.

and in Denmark
they pour another
Royal Bermuda Yacht Club.

how they hang on

all these loves like ghosts –
how they hang on,
with energy enough
to throw plates
yet the vision of which
is leftover rain
sneaking across the
summer screens…

ah the comfort wall
how years
sweat into concrete bricks
to carefully
pile with mason skill,
it is not enough
for the stones to grow tall. they must
reach side to side
in an embrace
soft breath of air
seals each, kissed good
and gone.

the old man in me

the old man in me
day dreams daily

all those around him
witness Technicolor scenes.

the old man in me
putters incessantly

crafting wood doll houses
miniscule in detail.

the old man in me
worries constantly

convinced he will stand
and throw the dirt first.

what the crop circles say

crop circles below
gaze up at
a woman and child
watching
a bright sunset, and
before the wing tilts
they realize

dusk is a mirage.

untitled (first spring nights)

oh certain first spring nights
the tree blossoms
have this sticky sour smell
that wafts joyous
with grilled meats smoking

oh inhaling, inhaling till
i’m back in a thousand memories
and you’re with me

all of you are with me

oh how the sliver moon full of shadow
witnesses the
scented blindfold
take my arm, lead me
home.