Music from the church
at this distance, I will hear
only blended souls.
☯
What would Gang of Four
say about this construction
between me and freeze?
☯
Against unhappiness
paprika on potato
contends to the taste.
☯
An intimate act
summoning optimism
that I’ll see the moon.
☯
Not so much the wind
as the shutter cord’s tapping,
the ebb of sirens.
☯
Mill that fine, grinders!
your machine shall erode
one day in high forest
☯
Mexican diner
fiesta music bounces
off empty tables
☯
Elevator door
somebody’s cooking sausage
I won’t know the name.
☯
All is in fact one
and I must find communion
with these dog shit lumps.
☯
Could be a bad night,
but I hate him on the right
within mere minutes.
☯
“Love is a practice”
and that’s what I take from him
thirty minutes in.
☯
Tonight the siren
takes the form of a thin scream
beneath the drizzle.
☯
For one sunlit hour
I escape my punishment
shall I remember?
☯
The concrete spreader,
hungry orange pelican
brown hose for its worm.
☯
Scrubbed-out coffee cup
its stain traveled so quickly
to my yellow sponge.
☯
Ask not for whom
the cell phone rings; on this bus
no one will answer.
