1 New Poem

Cherry Red
 I have felt the sun in shades,

crossing creep from lawns shorn in

humming of summer passes, in

pitter-patter of misplaced hair strands,

perfectly-figured dress cuts.

Bathing in the milk-sewn pools of

August starlight, lipstick glint

bright as boyhood's blood, deep

as bar glass port, you dance

light as breeze-blown cotton, as humid air.

You're the kind of person I

want to share 4AM under halogen with.

You're the type to leave deep echoes

where dreams had taken up their comfort.

Leaving but the memory, but the notion.

1 New Poem

Licht und Blindheit

This is the gasp of the trip-switch dawn, cask thunder-crack

in blood-bark walls, wounding wind of wire's teeth emboldened

by player-piano keys and backgammon dresses we drape our

fine feathers in.

Bright flash-sudden in the Dublin dark revealing flaw-tines,

mirrored blood patches, destines for the next morning's

hazy-grey dress shirt cross folds, next evening's further

wine glass follies.

Castle doors they shutter-slam about us peasants, our

ignorance and willing to batter down, our bitter

pill concoctions swallowed to little death's dream

after the chime.

Blinding, the affectations made as danger wandered

cling of dust to fabric collar, cling of name to fingers;

it was your light that tripped me up, yours

and that alone.

1 New Poem

Close Calls

Collision-like in the busman's brow, hands scatter

in half-bring avoidance, too close for comfort,

again.

Dense in their bravery, words spiral, cluster of cave

paintings, shades in the red clay halo hues of times

lost.

You move between inarticulate florescent stripes,

with the drift of a a Vancouver sunshower, clumsily,

spry.

Heavy boot-binds the laces and whipping cords to

sounds of silence in half-and-half; it is a close call, again,

always.