Darkness avoids absence to

keep from falling.

As the cold spots of roses turn

to purple irises, of distant royalty.

That curve the mirrors of trees,

which climb out of windows.

As grass lands between moon's,

cut by light drumming on a persian

rug.

One cat sees another first, as summer

pools a galaxy.

Her moving heightens the

golden-tiered sounds that outlie

sleep.

Just as her body calls him back to his

body, summer speaks into his ear.

A lizard flicks against the ground,

like: you saw right, I rock this clime.

A flat breakout pose to freeze his

break dance--scales popping like a

Queens fruit stand.

Scimming the brickwall of a Garden

Complex, whose plants were chosen

by a Board's retirees with hospice blues.

Hail-chaff sun drinking ***** with

desert abandon, lopsided kiddie pools

bungling shallows.

As the laying of blacktop gets behind the

sun.

Sunday ******* popped into

his head.

He had to write about a:

Sunday ******* & didn't know why.

While rain showed streets photos of

itself--he thought about a

Sunday *******.

It was already dark out when it popped

into his head, which made it more

interesting.

Then it came like it was always there,

it was Father's Day.

Already bored by the subconscious irony,

he pouted at the Sunday *******.