Now is the hour
Of Hibernation


Rest grey muzzle soft
Into rotting bole

Living on belly-fat
Of Summer

Snorting Sleep

i pedal predawn streets
yellow globes
of lampglow

along the canals
dark the windows
and doors

so           me
ti            me
s                  birdsong and brightness

so           me
ti            me
s                  the pendulum of stars and moon

so           me
ti            me
s                  such a hiss and spit of rain

so           me
ti            me
s                  thewindandthewindandthewindandthewind

every corner
gathers its ghosts

reminding us
the living

to live

1
As weeds we
Sprouted through
Rubble

Yearning for
Butterfly
Colour

Screaming at the
Light

2
Cobbles dull as
Uncut diamonds-

Porous brick seeps
Victorian soot and
Rain-

Beneath Peace Street
Railway arch,
Pigeon guano
Slips the slide to
School

3
Smog
Hand unseen across
Childish face-

No place to
Become other than
Monstrous

In the depths
Of dust and debris,
Where even dandelions
Hide and bury,
Pulsating,
Is a tiny resistance,
And alive,
Is a tiny heartbeat.

there was a wishing well
on the boardwalk. a fountain

spewing yellow and blue water.
I reached into the pool

grabbing change.

crossed the street
and spread the wet
green change across the bar

and got a beer.

2 a.m.

just in time for the turtle races.

so I rushed across the street
to get money for beer
and to bet on the race.

she was kneeling
in front of the wishing well.

she told me her name was Destiny.

the green-dyed water
dripping from her clenched fingers.


DESPERATE LOVE was the turtle
we picked. a 40 to one shot.

Destiny and me
spread the wet change
across the bar,
placed our bet...


...right after the fight
the cops arrested Destiny. the green

dye. she never washed it off
her hands, her arms.

Desperate Love came in first.
I took the winnings and bailed
Destiny out of the county jail.

it was love at first sight.

...meanwhile,

we're back at the wishing well...

this morning spilled itself
like a cup of not-enough-coffee—
the sun (crooked in the sky's pocket)
forgot to smile.

& i,
with a mouthful of tomorrow's words,
stepped into the street where
wind whispered secrets i didn't want to hear—
a fist of weather broke my face
(it wasn’t personal, it never is).

the hours marched on with
their boot-polished precision:
giving (taking)
giving (taking)
more of me than I
remembered I had to lose.

sacrifice wore its familiar coat—
buttons missing but
it fit me perfectly,
still.

all i could think of
(when the weight of now
shoved me into myself)
was the quilted quiet
of staying home:
walls tender as eyelids,
ceilings dreaming their own sky.

but this world
asks more than
any single answer—
even the moon is required to rise
when it would rather sleep.

so i go on,
dragging behind me a day
i didn’t want to carry,
wishing it would unfold
like a paper crane
&
fly away.