the world is made of radio waves
and sonic booms,
short on sure signs,
            afraid to change the station.

let us pay attention to the
morning sun thieving under
our blue devil doors.

discernment is a special grace-
       that phrase normally would
       have washed over me, but

     the fire’s getting faster and I’m
swearing at the gathered theories-

went back for every door I
could not open

      and saw from the muddled
result a blossoming,  altered
terrain still breathing inside out,

      we are here,
if only to put away the days
we circled our wagons,
pistols drawn, brave in the void.

//

the speaker is a daisy
born from space,
thinking about pressure
        deliberately,
spheres of influence.

lone digger,
                 lazerhawk
formed by observations
     and heaps, piles-
rounded towers
accumulating.

intoxicated with the
liquors of nature-
unstable in self-

                    who can sail without wind
                         who can sail without wind

i am underwater plugging
multiple leaks in this vessel
we built together.

but i’m not wet, i’m dry-
the driest shipwreck you
ever saw, deep down…

the moon looks
unnatural
in a hot sky
and rising and sinking
seem to reach the same
                                              
        conclusion.

in line at the bookstore
overhearing three suicides.

occupied,
endless vacuums
and no translation ....

- -

what poet has nothing to say?

eavesdropping as balm
for loneliness -

people aren’t
making it.

until the turtle
sloughs us off

        Neruda Made of Carbon
        on the rooftop...

writing act two in free
verse with a
crescent moon
and his

       weird thought
             thinker taking notes.

reflect the sky at the dividing line
thousands, pilgrims, acrobatic flight
cautionary signals, holy outline
carry the form of grace and light.

countable and uncountable, alight
coastal meadows of purple aster
neon sun behind the fog, fading night
winged silhouettes settling at Big Sur.  

aerial blueprints, circling wet fir,
time resolved into opaque brushstroke,
compass lines, body before mind, umber
cliffs springing off a morning flock, awoke.

       red on red ridden their wild throats, pigment
       of deepest origin, indifferent.