Sunday, March 18, 2007


breath flutters in in in like
moth wings powdered
sugar sweetens
the lips.

her hand in a hip pocket w/
a so cool mien,
my gaze is a casualty
in her confidant line of vision

Tuesday, March 06, 2007

come summer

i play craggy love songs

from my bedroom and twirl

the idea around my index finger --

girlishly falling into the hollow

of a jumbo country guitar and

thoughts of watermelon, tanned legs;

a southerly attitude toward traffic jams.