you bring the crimson
makes a system skittish
foreign electricity
in staccato arrivals

X marks the spot
seems fact over fiction
but your code unravelable
gridlock enigma

the heartbeat knows
mystery loves mischief
though years become strangers
rainless scraps of cloud

no better should know better
adulthood in lowercase
when we meet French lullabies
may I drink from your throat

Crayon pink cheeks
shimmer, blossoming
commotion of the skies,

like dream bundles
leaking in from beyond
wrapped in emerald silk,

atmosphere's blush,
Christmas come early
with electrical waltz.

at the edge of any town
evening leaks out over green tufts
trio of circular-headed
pumps with no cars to quench

grass like a smudge of butter
nudges the curbs
lights threading shadows
where a man

back to the road
waits for another vehicle
to pull up by
the unswinging Mobil

red Pegasus to signal
here is where you fill

they said you couldn't miss it
how it sprouts volatile
blood-built demon flora

or chain smoker’s inflamed lung
messy web of charred arteries
drips singe ground to orange

skinny hooks like sky fissures
a seeping wound that sullies
evening’s cobalt gauze

and no, you didn’t miss it
leaves well gone on winter's
vampiric apparition

A dismal bubble consumes the pair -

- the man, blotchy blue, plagued
with a sickness even he can't define,
his arms a hoop around her -

- the woman, lava-haired,
hot water drizzle no soothing salve,
no weather of comfort -

- even the kiss a torrid symbol,
blistering residue every time
they embrace. She wants to hold on -

- and he knows he can't escape.

grubby brown land
half-moon like a splash of milk
punctuation in the darkest of darks

and the dog is barking
mustard-bearded with its earbud leg
and chalky eye eying a bird

red-tailed bottle
above the ladder to nowhere
or black everywhere

a place a dog still howls
at the nonchalant moon
night-time's noiseless citizen

forks against turbulent sky
vivid cigarette flicker
like a stifled disturbance

the water holds what's high
fluvial duplicate shivers
in orange and jasmine

and the fog - great belches of it
day’s first gesture of mischief
by the house of power