Summer of Our Discontent

Wild Pink Yonder
The roadside palm trees turning gray in this light
              smogged & eternalized in my poems

The Premeditated Answer To A Question No One Ever Asked
like a low-fi sledgehammer in your veins
desire overrides even the purest abstraction

Chapter & Verse
A rip in the fabric of time
                              through which angels pass
& gods so old no one remembers their names
              or phone numbers

Reading Ecclesiastes Through Binoculars
I spend these days like a foreign currency
                              no clue as to the exchange rate