Author: admin

When I was a little boy it seems
wildflowers grew to teach me the
colors they forgot to put into
my orange crayola twelve pack.

At the odd moment, wind calls
through an open field or
from around the corner of
some bare-boned house

Praise the rain
that creates pathways
puddles for imagination
to skip across like smooth rocks
like Jesus tiptoeing
in the attic of your mind

I can take you Tuesday, the doctor said
over the heads of three interns
he’d brought in to see my film.
They were gaping at an x-ray of
my pelvis, their mouths
open wide as the butterfly
wings of my cracked basin:

An engraving shows him
walking in the woods,
head down, hands held
behind his back, hair just
this side of electric

The deadline dropped on us
Like a dictionary on the basement floor
Stirring the dust in us
Sending it into a tizzy
Of gray confusion

The seagulls push inland in search
of food, of fish, a bite to eat, garbage
cans turned on their side in the wind

Even in our sleep, the current
flows like the river the horse swims through,
afraid and courageous. His legs pump the water
to stay afloat, to bring him
to the other side.

Traveling by subway, bus
to newer realms, I discovered
Wingohocking, a name that sounds
like bullets flying between gangs–
Wingo vs. Hocking.
Who would win the war?

Anyway, it is a cold October morning; he was misplaced I tell myself. Never mind the fact that I crushed his neck or that he now lies on his broken back gurgling his last breath from collapsed lungs. He should have seen that...