There's nothing to bless around here but wrapper or old coins,
We can't forget they're the only things that we can afford
to look down to.

Moss and Plaid

That's the band name. Don't forget it. ;)

Shore

It suffers an expression--

Dangling water, pining for the table covers
hysteric calligraphy, font dressed in liberation
smelling so absolute as dancing in a dream,
and personal and courageous and sunken as cherry nailpolish that bleeds left to the right
on the skin--
as we're moving towards distance, in your plastered, fading van
that serves some new Art, but not me.
Gulping down Brahms through swirling ears, we're lost
like you said, hoping for nothing but no wish to camouflage.
While these rocks, these mountains,
Trees with no Roots
spin down the well to something untrue
We're bad at the knowing, just every man's nothing
What can that say about us?

Every skipping thought births a little, humming boat
always invited, but somehow called
to the shore.

Unfinished

I drink a cut so deep it breathes me wise,
as they tend to say I say
where one might bleed some danger of a truth
in a trapeze city fogged by blues.
Budding in snow's flaking paint, scaled in
Summer's discolored, blazing perfection
and charmingly lost, one Constellation soldier, melted
into wholesome, silent bricks that build a solemn house.
Daisy-chained, a child unknowing--seasons by, you're
afraid.

But lightning stars learn in thunder
A Purity that shines in hearty laughter.

Value

If I had a dime for every word you just said,
well, I wouldn't have a dime, or a nickel, or a penny.
Since your words value nothing, and sum me to nothing.
But pages have turned
I won't despair.
There's better words here than for any you care.

High Heels

Open window, Sunday afternoon
A prize fish displayed along the mantle.
Creak, sighs the widowed chess board
A breaking step of silence, as her hesitation
mumbles across valleys of squares.
He said, "Don't you know that regular people
never do
these things?"
And she said, "Don't you know I never cared?"
The pawns were fighting Pretty, side by side
and the Queen stood defiant, unconventional- an arrow-headed
woman, glancing gracefully across
her kingdom.
When they won the war, there was nothing left
but him and her on their opposing cliffs
"It's a shame they weren't high-heeled
for the occasion."
She drew the curtains, and then she left.

Hummingbird

High above the sky
My feet weave in, then out
like silky strands of amethyst drawing
a sedentary
little life.
Perched, and not far from
friends, a fond disinterest,
branches lined with jay birds
teeter, in cornflaked sun.
It's strange the deep hole
that floods spacious forests
the icy, echo winds of
misplaced, once seeded, Grace
--sipping from creaking barstools
and chucking wine over
leaning, characterizingly hunched
with her elbows engraved.
Yet there's a stranger strange, even
in the flight of my peripheral portrait--
I smell sweaty exclusion, lift-off, and
dark, molten anxiety.
Looking back, I see
feathers, left by nothing.
Well it's terribly strange,
whatever we are now
living in a stark, humming tree.