Sunday, February 7, 2016

Year of the Red Fire Monkey

Spiked kool-aid.  Dark sun glasses. 
A t-shirt.  White.  Standing by the gate.
Fluttering in the dark.  Chinese weather.

A high-speed low-pressure system
defining both the sky 
& you
            your empty pearls my tidewater shades
the beach all broken
                        the sky sliding along silver wires

Wherever we were going as good a place as any

                                    Eye of the Dragon.  Tooth & nail.

Good fortune arrives in the shape of a single
Douglas iris blossom beside the muddy path to the beach below

Dense fog laden w/salt spray & methylmercury
muffles the sound of waves

            You were someone I knew way back when
            I wonder who
                        w/a sketchy past & a secret agenda

                        A day of hollow music & indecision
                                                inside the windy ruins of our
                        once and future resolve (Mexico)
                                    although the swaying palm trees up the ante
                        w/their preconceived notion of fate

You thought you could leave the dead behind but
they follow you as voices in the choir of memory
belting out a few golden oldies

wherever we happen to be now
stretching from where we were
to where we are

            contemplating the smoked glass
            & the seagulls
                        slicing thru the air as we stare out
            at the ocean

                                          China is out there
                                                      on the other side
            w/red tassels dancing in the wind