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

sunset and messages (20160722)

we saw no angels only
the aftermath of their
swords cutting the air

orange sunset through
clouds of distant smoke
and somewhere a single

dog barking
__________i hope someone
threw that loud bastard
a bone to calm him down

as for the angels–well
they can carve up heaven
as they see fit

there aren’t enough
actual souls down here
to complain about it