Lava Dream: Collapse

The rubble looked light and fluffy what it really was was a ton of bricks without that shape and color. Even dust would be heavy if there is enough of it. Why this was heaped onto the lives of people could only be answered by would only be told by should be mentioned by every person still breathing.

Lava Dream: The Crush

She was half alive. Half were gone. I see them in the faces. Family strangers. The volcanoes call. Their icy tips. Safe foundations. Anything can grow with a little water. Welcome to the planet. Please behave. She was not crushed. Sage smells strongest. I ask her when life will end. She thinks asking is so ridiculous. But I did not say a word.

Day Of Fall

It lasted one day but I remember fall as cool and dripping in the dim time standing. How could things show up as a second summer in the making. Hear this. Weep no more. Only swimming in tomatoes, squash, and all that kale.

Roman Numeral

The sky is honey sieved through grey blankets. My longing for fall is starting with a perfect moon slicing everything in half-- plums, butter, flour. Sun.

Bo And Nat

Painted thin with one hair Dipped in egg tempra Their wild upside down world Showed me my mind. Boris and Natasha Glowing. Would I ever understand My second parents? The plot Was always no. But I was watching.

Could Not Hurt

She was past all that It didn't matter So long ago Trees grew so much larger Still she wondered How it would've been If she had not visited So much She was the one to know them so well Their leafy heights Their exposed roots knuckling the walkway and brushing away twigs

False Front

They told her Hinten Lyceum, forne Museum! about her hair how she should be wearing it pinned up. They told her she has a difficult time making decisions. They told her she looks nothing like the photo. They gave her photos of what was there before the rubble. Uebelhoer Gaertnerei total und voellig Zerstoert. She showed these to me placing them where I usually eat.

To Day

Right around sweep over the vale bright with outlines we're hopeful but sweating and too late getting the eggs. "When I am old what will I be like?" Just this nagging feeling I should be thinking more feeling more like myself.

Sweet Vortex, Darling Tree Of Mystery

Sweep me away even under the rug with your spider web breath bleached pavement song. Clear cuts rising like towers. Sutherlin a.m. coastal drape thick now fall breaking through crackling in the no burn zone.

Small Talk

The moon isn't talking but dropping down the rest of the horizon. The noisy spiders and their webs. The abandoned apple trees at the for sale property waiting for light to touch them. The small sleep just as refreshing. In six hours the task will be easy.

Kiss Of The Spider Web

Noisy impatience wrapping ideas into little bundles hiding a larger view out of the buildings once larger than the trees out front their needles their leaves inviting the dead spiders into death hear them knocking dead knuckles against the glass

Close Call

The queen takes pictures of the sun. She takes images of what they said, reviewing the way they talked about the road, how it is easy to find, difficult to leave after the turn heading out of town. But go there and don't stay away too long. The subject is closing, now remembering them and others. Look here.

Return Of The Queen

Our endless waiting has ended, Just in time for the grapes, after dealing with the pears and all the makings for a cake. We use our heads to figure out all that is passing us by, plus time. It wasn't like this before. Honeycombs did not seem real. Maybe the facts will show themselves between the likes of these two realms.

Sky Blue, Sky Blue

Oak trees, extra cows. Shy grasses. Deer by the Donner Party memorial. Baking soda for toothpaste. The raspberries are dry and scraggly. Same with the currants. I've watered the strawberries all summer. They are sending out shoots like crazy near the pumpkins. Everywhere is a echo. The bright moon. Splitting.

Stone's Throw Away

Just that far til the half-life moon. I begged myself to stop and look. Will I remember you as well as I remember seeing your name for the first time, fancy.

Nikkia

The best thing about Nikkia was when he would let us brush his long mane and tail. The deer now bed down close to where his bones would be, that is, if you count the times we killed and buried him when he was still living and only a neurotic obsession in those days, not like now.

The Asp At Olympia

Sparta has short roads, its goats are nimble climbers. Sparta has more than its share of sharp stones. Sparta is remembered. We went there the long way, all the way to Sparta.

Round Town

I was so sad, I told a lie to everyone I could think of-- the signs did not change. I read them backwards, upside down. Meanwhile, I knew all along how much I missed him, tried to do right by him. I doubted all along, only to find that it was just fine and I had not left had not strayed but was hit by lightning late one afternoon in the scrub lands during my mad scrambling.

Wandering

I tried staying on but my lips were too alluring when I was much younger, my hair left unbraided and tangled, moss and flowers, this was suspicious. With my pahoa, I could subsist. I look at the beards of the supervisors-- what are they hiding under their slick mustaches? Is is cooked, or is it raw? What was the story of today's new night.