Savoured time
passes through
a perched peregrine.

it bends
till the beginning
till he knows the marrow
of his kind.

that crackles
whispering
on lines
clear of doubt about
forever.

shut eyes jolt
memories
catapulting out of
acacia thickets.

thundering 18-wheeler
bends time.
he stole her sweetly.

god of the skies
till he dies.

to manage
the disease,
go to bed
early. (lesson from my father)

through my jazz
whiskey winter
days I drift the subways
in and out, marching.

living apart yet, a feature
of the artificial air and
engineered electric
underground glare.

puzzle
spun by
my current booklist.

Revolutionary road,
Fergusson’s Empire,
the book from Bennet
Bacterium to Bach,

a podcast recommended
word of mouth
leaked by rick
a history of rock
in 500 songs.

each episode a different station
on the BJ underground.

detached thought,  
we look
like we look
unhappy.

bespoke webs
keep us sane.
measured
from special cloth.

a spectacle delivered
from a discreet
esteemed address
each new season.

nothing is the old me
except my immortal coil.

Strung out nicotine
fingers test the water,
pointing
the desert.

counter melodies
rot
in graveyards of tone.

a face the shape of
a rock
beat water forth
with a stick.
a face that would
stutteringly part
a sea.

he dreamed the
burning bush
got wisdom from the mountain.
diminished chords
when the tablet
broke.

ticked generations
gamely pencil me
into sun
carbonized flecks
of minute hours.

years,
peel perceptions,
light night
gloomy day
save me, if you can,

more time
to end my scuttle
in this sour mash sea.
ended like
the rest of them,
free.