PLEASE HELP BLUE PRESS STAY AFLOAT

Tuesday, March 24, 2015

Last Tango in Shangri-La

Sound Check
The late afternoon sky was like something
Miss Montana 1979 spilled on her bikini
out near the ice machine
at the Sea Garden Motel
in Pismo

Under the Influence
The light was all
                  nickels & dimes
                              dancing across the pavement
inside the sound of gears grinding
                  just a block from the beach

Adjusting the Float
                  The sunset haze
                              reaching for the
                                          pulse of the tide
            with compression dings
            in silver mist
                              propped against a chainlink fence
it was like the Ark of the Covenant
dissolving in a shot glass
all smudged with lipstick

Monday, March 16, 2015

In the depths of the purple sea

A chunk of beach concrete
            & a small carved jade
to set against the weather
                        anywhere but here

Like a whistle in the dark
when no one's listening

There's an underlying lie that begs to
difference when in fact all's
too precious to matter for more than
a fractured second (if even)

& the song comes round again
on the sunnyside of a failed rhyme
that I know you know could be
rescued at the last minute by a
simple misplaced syllable

Now it's only this slanted light & air
trembling
                "Hello my name is Mustafa"
                "I come from Cairo"
                "I came to fix the pipes"

Sunday, March 8, 2015

Keep the Change

I walk like an octopus
across the parking lot
bathed in gray-gold sunlight
while asthmatic palm trees whisper
like tumbleweeds in a refrigerator

It’s Sunday on Earth

I’m burning matches beneath the tidewater
architecture & shattered pipes
drizzled in turquoise
with mudslide tremors & gaited horses

& contrary to the haze (my legacy)
the ocean’s inlaid chrome is all lit up
like a kamikaze hood ornament

There are more direct roads to bliss
I’m sure but I’ve always preferred the
scenic route

Sunday, March 1, 2015

It is what it is

Pale shadows bump & grind among damp
palm trees & their muffled voices…

“How many candle-lit beach scenes does it take
to pry the lid off your Peruvian kimono?”

The sunlight filtering down thru the
everpresent haze.

The Colonel told me that I had eyes crazed from
a thousand years of killing whales.  I took it as a
            compliment & put on my sunglasses.

The sky was scrawled with lipstick
& I was burning matches to keep warm while
reaching for your hand because you know
we’re both alone.