In this hoopla city, sparrows are made of metal
and yes they do villanelle or sonnet
among stray bread crumbs and restaurant debris.

I felt clever upon the round, anxious delights
of the sweet, new day. Where, in the start
of sun's truth, the wind breathes happily.

There was only a hint of the question; can
the future prevail where the past has failed?

In the near-green farmlands, the wild horses
were arrogant and flooded the hillside
with the charging language of worried knees.

I walked the roadside to a magazine dance hall
and scrambled up a slow two-step with a stranger,
for breakfast. Our legs interviewing each other
as those distributed looks kept waving lust.

Hand in hand, our palms made moisture.
Her name was a whisper and I had a pint
of Guinness with the prosciutto.

Later, at the inorganic museum,
I looked at the Tanning, with a perfect sigh.

When a mirror is held up high,
some people tend to look away.
A few might stare too long and forget
that it is only a reflection.

Guiding my expedition into evening,
the curious air of moonlight.
Where the hollow calm before dreaming
reminds me of my muse;
that kleptomaniac who stole my heart.

Now, to touch her is to hold the best of me
while the rest of me expands into a smile.

Looks  repetitiously  bleak
Rain    Snow
Ice -Cold    Wind

&  one  tiny  puddle  of
mangy  wooly  bear
caterpillar
      the  cat  puked  up.

Let's play with something: A Ouija board. A bowl of fruit. Spin images in your skull until fingertips drip lightning. Create spider webs out of ink and neurons. Waste nothing. Time is watching. Avoid eye contact. Start sketching images blindly, let the hand run as it fumbles through an open zoo in your mind. Don't be afraid as the animals start running. Get it down, get it all down. This is great material.

On the Orinoco
the Indian women
still wash their bright dresses
on the rocks

You can hear their singing
clear faint mysterious
riding the high notes
in the dazzling heat

Simple buoyant songs of love
like the cries of magical birds
winged-beating up and down
the wide river

They will wave to the passing boats
each brown-skinned
not bashful naked
each shining face uplifted

The river of their birth
racing muddy after the rains
carries to them the cotton cloth
the smiling men

Cats do not like sandwiches.
Bread is a consistency
Strange to feline rough tongue.

Rather,
Bathe a cat's mouth
With a tender flesh
More akin to rodent
Or blue jay.

Whenever resistant,
The dark fluid of kitty eyes
Will overwhelm
Your logic of placing brown,
Commercial flakes
On its concave platter.

That neglected crunchy pile,
Our foremost reminder
That we can stand between
Earth and stomach.

Extending his arms
in front of him
and moving his hands
in circles as if he
were an elephant
swinging his trunk
gracefully in the air
he tiptoes lightly
down Tinker St.
in his cowboy hat
slipping thru
the molecules
  invisible
tipping the brim down
over his brow
    smiling
at the pleasure
of his thoughts—
the images—
the unraveling story
that is his life
then turns right
into the alley
by the liquor store
and out of sight.

so much depends 1,2,3,4,5,6,7
    1 How much of the beauty
    ibid—of cypress knees of aerial roots of mangroves cowering
    rain clouds reaching for soil from black box sky
    2 I remember you in the shadows.
    You ask for memories I don't have.
    3 regardless of any dogma any meaning
    or lack
    of regardless of desire
    to ignore facts ignore
    ignorance
    ignore bias and hope and fear
    4 I am in need of solitude, of slow time.
    5 Lonely sounds of lake freezing, water molten.
    6 Latent state of being where no amount of heat will raise the temperature.
    7 a drop of dew falling from a leaf explains the humid winds blowing
    through
    window screens on a night
    without electricity

upon 8,9,10,11,12
    8 That's how I fell in love—
    9 That point at which steam rises yet I know it will not take me.
    Into the humid air.  Into the current's convecting flow.
    10 and the fog that follows becomes the reason to sleep
    as crickets chirp and neutrinos crash
    and grass decays into soil
    11 bacteria in porous rocks a mile below earth's surface
    12 regardless of those preaching impending
    death threat of nothingness
    regardless of rock and roll alternative
    viewpoints alternative
    lifestyles alternatives to evolution
    to science to cosmology

a red wheel barrow 13,14,15,16,17
    13 —the light from above your left shoulder, your leaning forward
    ardent
    deflecting the light onto walls like hands
    forming my interest
    in ambiguity in restlessness.
    I remember the restlessness.
    14 ecumenism universalism Catholicism Baptism of fire
    of water of ashes of mud
    15 Thunder clouds boiling, plates subducting, kids competing
    for attention, harmonic traffic.
    Ennui
    freezing into routine.
    16 becoming justification for fossil fuels
    and wind through hair and gunshots
    17 insects crawling over leaves fossils hanging in lime
    cliffs ripples of rain drops

glazed with rain 18,19,20,21
    18 There is more than sanctuary within
    time outside of time, mind outside of skin.
    19 of the trickster the wolf the crow
    the man behind the curtain ontogeny
    recapitulating
    phylogeny progeny legacy
    20 The early inhibitions and inadequacies, the sensations
    of exploration and mystery, of you in the white shirt
    and black cardigan sweater.
    You are always colder than me.
    21 as anger becomes excuse for almost anything

water 22,23,24,25,26
    22 fallacy mendacity complicity regardless
    of philosophy religion piety sin or innocence
    having faith keeping faith
    23 I like arctic landscapes,
    ammonites scattered like leaves on Seymour Island, the uncertainty,
    it inspires me to act as if to itch, to approach you seduce you
    trick you fool you inveigle you with my chivalry and deep
    waters.  I like caves and the processes that form them, the time
    the time the time the time the time.
    My only talent is time.
    The knowledge that mountains will come and be leveled
    and come again, that all meaning is contained in moments
    too short for time to stretch and imprint and inveigle
    into memory, and the shadows
    fell across your face,
    except for the crystalline blue of your eyes.  I've always preferred
    winter landscapes, the beauty of ice on branches, the sky
    and ground fused, a fog rising,
    24 There's more than renewal, more than freedom, more than eternity.
    25 in placid water flowers emerging
    slowly
    oceans lapping against mottled shores
    rainforests competing canopies whole
    ecosystems huddled around deep-sea volcanic vents
    diatoms surviving in Antarctic ice
    26 except the tears that fall pulling leaves from trees suspending
    dust fertilizing oceans driving hurricanes and acts of God

beside the white chickens.27,28,29,30,31
    27 means only this
    you must believe
    in the value of human spirit
    over any pursuit of meaning
    28 like the soul of the earth,
    with just the contrast of your eyes penetrating, proving life
    still exists, proving to me the worst event in any life
    is to lose the shadows,
    the details of ambiguity.
    29 all because life requires meaning
    30 comes from the knowledge
    that all of this is meaningless
    to me
    31 There is nothing.