the full moon is the bastard eye
that sets the whole of the city to a raging silhouette.
--------------------------------------------------
not the southpaw,
but staggering just for a half second,
half night,
enough to make me feel
mortal
godlike
full.
--------------------------------------------------
lumbering
300 lbs, in flip flops
the black
scaled
skin
of this evolution
has eaten itself
into oblivion.
--------------------------------------------------
with the state of dismay
disarray
one could ask,
why?
a family?
a house?
a shop?
with the state of dismay
disarray
one could ask,
why not?
--------------------------------------------------
the best things
that are under your nose
are never found until
you break down
fall apart
lose control
and land
flat
on
your
face.
--------------------------------------------------
last shards,
shred red plastic,
tattered
hanging on
to sooted leaves and sticks,
the tree as lonely
in the concrete
as the brilliant
the precious
the perfect ones.
--------------------------------------------------
buildings and billboards
block out the sky
what is left
is swallowed
by the haze
and
the eye spent magnetic field
that assures that most gazes
search the concrete
for clouds.
--------------------------------------------------
low slung
chrome spiring,
pipes in eternal belching,
blasting
sunlight bent
like halos on demons on fire
as the sonar waves
bend around warehouses and trees
and scream...
i am here.
--------------------------------------------------
hard times for the guy. he lives in his shades and shadow and cloud. no matter how fast, it all just moves with him. his shades and shadow and cloud. from bus stop to bench to park to table. his clothes and hair are still worn and dusty like the day.