cinder block museum trapped skirt monlogue, caught underneath layer after layer of sediment and time, beholding nothing else save itself, the abyss, Nanu, free range closer, unargumentative and sweet.
Golden dapple sunlight
red apples scattered like fat rubies
on the front lawn.
Summer dawn sleeping. A campfire waiting to be lit. Sudden fractured lights and cool breezes. Ripples across a pond, as birds rise up and across. Worship. Song. Music to heavens, for the heavens, from the heavens, circlet complete.
Radium halos.
A brown sphere rotating in space. Celestial stairway wooden door.

Rains falls hard against the sheets of woven tile roofs,
torrenting down off their sides and flooding
the narrows in between the houses.
Two new lovers splash up a good deal
of water,
running gaily into and out of sight,
a shrill shriek of excitement and a deep laugh still echoing against the gray-blue bricks, lit gold-green in places by hanging lamps on wires,
higher up, above the thin, many windowed walls.
White purple flash. Crack of lightning.
Thunder rattles the sobbing windowpane.
A baby upstairs cries out and is soon soothed.
I think only of dinner and of you.
I will eat bulb-onion soup, with freshly picked mint.
And I will consume you,
raw.

Moldy car, moldy car.
I have driven thee so far.
Almost up
to one-fifty thou.
So why should you start flooding now?

Egyptian curses? Fire, flood, and plague?
I saw a locust beetle the other day,
it chased me 'round the front sidewalk
and buzzed against my head.
I screamed and ran away.

But now empty, save for water,
I will smother you in salves
oils and vinegars and soaps and
dry, dry towels.
I will hug you warmly, crisply
scrub you of your mold.

I know you're getting old,
moldy, moldy car.
But I would still like to drive you
far, far,
far.

Oh to fill my face with grace
So patiently flowering,
Kindness growing in smiles and
Bright green streaks woven into
The murky coffee brown of my eyes
Like a timelapse of a million moments of wisdom and compassion
Guidance received and given like water rained and evaporated and rained and evaporated etc., etc.,
A cycle of beauty both physical and spiritual
Both reflecting one another
And the golden sunlight of healthiness dripping from my footsteps, lighting solar lawn lamps as I walk past,
Undying neverland my body so small will be,
If being so full of grace, I could achieve.

I am not open to new ideas
Though I believed I was
Just means I am gonna have to work harder
Or suffer the truth of death
Which is to be certain of all things

If I can't tell
if it's you, or if it's me
could it be
it is we?
The problem isn't yours
or mine
strictly speaking; It is ours.
Maybe you have changed
the way you view yourself
maybe I have changed.
Maybe you have grown
more secretive, more
affluent.
Maybe I have changed
my mind.
Quite a few times.

I still love you,
though -
ain't that just
the worst?

They ran along the side of the eroding asphalt road, gray pebbles digging rolling against the undersides of their feet

Freedom before freedom is remembered and truly needed

Just kids

When they got back to Ryan's house, Oscar said he needed a glass of water. Ryan ran inside to get a glass of water.

Oscar watched some ants eat a beetle by the front door.