to be a human
is to have thought
they slow my tongue
my lips are taut

I stole my fathers smile
He would not give it up without a fight
I do not answer when he calls
I know he'd just ask me for it back

no need for conversation here
chet baker on the stereo
reminds me of the words we share
when time has no place else to go
immobile as a broken clock
still on the wall a bird inside
long separated from the flock
not knowing where to find a ride.
the need to flip the record soon
Inspires me to lay down my pen
move through the crescent-lighted moon
and drop the needle once again
then listen to the falling man
bend summer into one last stand.

Could be coffee or
The cat's indigestion again,
Looks like islands
On the vast yellow page,
The lawyer's pad,
Hispaniola with its stark
Divide,
Jamaica, Cuba,
A rhythm section of suppression,
Questioning the rights of man,
Woman, trans, some progress
At a price
Unknown.  Love,
The color of the sun,
Suggests itself in shadows
And reflections.