i watch you
heavy
haunt my
way
up
ladder
onto kick out
stool,
attic toys don’t
play
with kids from
dried up
pools,
from beyond
voices
twist
like fishing line
around my
fists.
shadow play
grassy past fades
grey here,
arm cocked to throw
my pet
rock
thru end credit
screen,
freed now I’ve
shown
you
the folders i
got into
while
you sipped
pinky
up
on fumes and
cream.
No Clean Landing
runaway ride
stalled at first red
weeds spring from skull
weighted down by
clouds-
too close to ground
to veil the
bright
reminds me just how small
i sigh when throat
grows tight,
should we
‘face to face’ again
before the end writes self
from ledge,
we’ll still
jump..
in both feet
wet.
in zigzag crowd
of any
mall
on
standby,
sea
of returns-
patron ants
swarm,
guards pocket
palms
and swallow
glass
cutthroat demands
outweigh the
cash
in locked up
hands,
it’s
Cheater’s Math
dear, dare i
accept
the limits of
a smile
in the heat of
distress,
stripped of prince
gown-
all fashion, no
function,
no comfort in
the nude,
hostile
to seduction-
am behind the
glass flirt
in moods most
perverse.
fingers folded over
molding
apple-
into
scrap pit
till further needed,
will pray that dirt
nor decay
completely
claim
it-
dare i
yet
wish to
kiss
it.
i’d be wise to chase
hisses home,
crack the panes,
unshackle
time,
should i taunt
flames
best contain the
spread of
mine,
sparing cardboard
creatures
guarding arid
acres
miles from
crime.
feigning
calm
on
baited line
braced for
breakneck jerk,
make it painless
as quick
be
it fate
of fightless
fish.
blind uncertainty of
where we
rest
a breath from now
should lungs
consent,
bunkbed’s
top rung’s bent
from loaded
stance
of
bricks named
man
land upon whose
head?
swagger up to
muted
mic
stand side by
pride
with any
fool in room,
name his genius,
curse his
luck-
snicker like his jokes
don’t suck.
hands in the garden 
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