promises of moonlight (20170901)

the clouds are maxfield parrish
strata, pulled, ripped
strawberry pink and orange
creamsicle dripping across
a cooling blue expanse
the sun at just the right angle

look back after looking down
and every color has been leeched
to gray
but the color of lead offers
its own comfort
signalling a purple sky
promising half a moon

cloudy morning (20161024)

morning rain washes
everything clean
sidewalks, streets
air heaves with petrichor
and the scent of eucalyptus
thin crescent moon wanes overhead
masquerading as a wisp of cloud

today, two cars make u turns
in the middle of the street
what is not forbidden
is implicitly allowed

the sun, that smug bastard
burns through clouds
ruining this autumnal dream

but he draws my eye
like a pointed finger

two silhouettes
against a brighter bank
two souls
rising up on shafts of light

or a pair of angels
falling in slow

Poem 20160118

i looked back
at a year’s worth of words
and found
my words had all
been used up

i didn’t know i had
a quota
but there they were
every last one
written out

trying to call up more
felt like coughing up dust
like trying to cast a shadow
in a darkened room
or playing tag with ghosts

the wind punched
a heart-shaped hole
in the clouds
and i was momentarily