Monday, June 7, 2010


kids pretending they’re airplanes soaring into the wind

hang-gliding their way along the sidewalk

midair smiles pooled on their tiny faces

while something magnetic triggers a sprig of joy

a letting go

that shoots rest through the shrieked delight of horns

shake this land

sturdy and shoddy

with faded dollar signs

overt to the touch of mentioning

living at the tops that you’re not anymore

direct hits stenciled in redwhite&blue

ever the wits of wanting getting taken again

back and leashed to the tip of the tongue

under the cap of hairless reveries

we can’t hide like snails or

reinvent these same old inventions

so hills of blueberries can speak like gravel

guess my weight and I’ll buy you a five-dollar bill

just so lincoln’s face can grift through my hands

the gashouse gang has gone home for the winter

the baltimore chop has come back into style

we need belts

just not in the face

this time my


can’t take the brunt

of things

come my way


my clothes are estivating somewhere

south of nowhere

there is nobody at fault

there is nothing to attempt

a rule of thumb attacks the hand that starves it

we are creatures of advertising slogans

run away with me

you better run


run away

with me