Before my brother died
I trusted man and medicine,
science and doctors,
maybe even God.
But now that he's gone,
I can't even trust myself
to write words that mean
a thing at the end of the day.

I thirst in my search
for words
that came first

in verse and in song
what's been here all along

since Peking (wo)Man
singing in the womb
at Zhoukoudian

when the first moon climbed
above branches frozen in time -

our rhythm and rhyme -
a memory of a memory
of the history

of how a poem came to be.

I like old glass
with bubbles

Pockets of breath
of the dead laid to rest

I break and I breathe and I taste

Their spices
and vices

Kisses from wives
Curses and verses

Songs of themselves
Wine of their wrath

Salt from their baths

Smoke from their fires
Sweet tastes of desire

Shared sighs and cries
Dead butterflies

Air.

I took a walk before dark
after the rain broke and had
to pass through the park
choked with winter briar
empty vials needles dog ****
piles and broken pieces of slide
rusting out beside a swing set
frame with rusty chains holding
up empty space while the whole
******* place looks like it could
use a tetanus booster if we hope
to have any kind of future clubs.

I like the sound of the rain
washing away the silent day

And the lonely call
of a home-bound train

A mournful morning
kind of pain

....Give me the sound
of a blue bluejay

over the busy noise
that mocks my ways

I want to pack my bag
and fetch my dog

Whistle a tune
while we walk along...

Come on girl
It's starting to rain

I hear the sound
of the lonesome train

and the blue bluejay
calling my name

(Here's where yer sposed to whistle)

It only takes one bullet to **** a king
But you can't **** a dream

The talk is talked
And the walk is walked today

It's a shame the bridge is named
for a hood who wore a hood

The good General turned grand
in the land and time of dragons

that feasted on Sundays
and still would
if we let them

Or maybe not

Maybe it's a fitting reminder
A bridge to a kinder
gentler place

Because we're better than that now
Aren't we

new light comes early -
low and uncertain
- cold and unsurely

slowly

winter is waning -
fading her darkness
away

- begins a new day.