kindled by bonfire of
keepsakes,
a toothless kid still lingers,
likes his candy
by the nickel by
the shovel
sucker sticks in
pockets
stuck
together,
in back row of splash
paint bus,
mostly friendly
girl’s face
that pretty shade
of dirty-
shrugs like age won’t
waste us.
a rasp turned tickle in
the middle
of memory held back
heavy sneeze
to not drag
notice
to
why shoulders
shiver
so.
how lacking sleep
left linens
musty
foldless moldy
sheets
may not have chafed
my cheek
had they been
aired to
dry
and not bleached
in heat.
clinging to what won’t
stop moving?
to us keep from
fossilizing
to three hundred
count thread
despite cravings to
watch sun
climb
to
heights
unperceived-
uprooted to
leave.
bending a fifth
string-
gushing sedimental
sentiment
in company of
critics
i seldom know
what not
to say,
deeply content with
incomplete-
despite fleeting need
to patch old
wrongs-
to wander where i
don’t belong.
fingers
trace tan lines,
sand dries
on lips of sunshine,
as clouds recede
from grainy
gaze
has not quit
for days.
you’re a chord change
in quicksand
song
rewound to skip
the fade,
smokescreens only delay
mirror’s gaze,
each surface
blemish-
a stroke of
genius,
both hands firmly on
your helmet,
i spit hornets
but half mean it,
watching a dove
land
in desert hand
of man
like shrine to
longing.
..found crumbs
in road
on my crawl
to carny
ride-
sun dipped
in tank
of
deep sea sounds
drowned
in cheeky
pink
…relief-
candy floss
teeth
of mouthless
clown..
his comb over
blown-
i fled
fairgrounds..
to find no sign
of home–
just empty
road,
then flagged down
the freaks
and begged to
tag along,
“sorry pal, this circus
ain’t for fleas,
best
move on.”
hands in the garden 
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