~
This level crossing--

stick,
sand,
and broken glass,

from naming to numbering,
names tend to define,
numbers are neutral,

they count the roads, follow their failings--

flow,
force,
and absorb,

dictated by a headlight,
I feel nearer to the surface of us,

motion made of visible memories, arrested in space,

mere unorganized explosions of random energy,
and therefore meaningless--

to fall in love with our progress,
and yet be outgrown by it.
~

Star soldier with the rocket arm,
you bleed silver, gold,
and product placement.

Smile big for the camera,
the media will sell its soul
for a new bankable face.

Party hardy, Heisman candidate,
******* your semi-steady's
sorority sister,
then ask to see her again
sometime after the **** kit.

It's quite alright,
so long as you have talent
beyond this hemisphere.
Why even the fatherland, ESPN,
will gladly call you "son."

her wings glinting shades of autumn
as low-angle sunlight fills the ash tree
and embraces all below in golden light

she glides around me twice and falls
scarred yellow swallowtail wings lie still
the cloud-veiled sun mourns a fallen daughter

i knelt to see dull eyes and a worn body
life-scared wings told combat tales
a life well-lived on any scale

~
Moonlit angels keep turning the wheels of the universe

In conversations with God, they placed the Sun precisely in the centre

Alarum and escapement keep the gear train moving forth:

Astronomical clock, armillary sphere, lunar phases in sidereal time

All patterns of evidence -- releasing our impulses, advancing our hands
~