the evening sky
returned the last star
to it's assigned cartesian
inclination
and the night calm of barn owls
sank talons of silence
into modern
noise

the
flame
in the pit
is having
the last
dream

of mesquite  

it's
reading today's newspaper
from last week.
relaxed reeds catching spiders
and baseballs
all this

all this is dreaming

yellow
bruise hemp
swaying  
over sand
dunes

backdrop for my wine glass.

deadline
tomorrow
oblivious

i could see god getting the job done. wearing house shoes.

he's bumping into things
but catching anything that falls
  always always
been good at that
however weary
absolute Love

bottle of wine, breathing
won't tell a soul
by telegraph
when a light buzz
perfectly
encrypts a moment of clarity
and every little thing
about right now
is true

wild sage landing helicopters with glass blades

black smearing blue, jackson *******
with van gogh's soul,

brush
in the palm
of my
eye