Monday, February 22, 2010

Remarks for a Nomad

Rita packed sandals and pens
And left the world on a Tuesday.

Into no-man's land, where
Ethnicity is rain clouds
And wealth is counted in
Hammock-swaying minutes.

Ballooning stomachs and
Heaving spider masses tramp behind
Her on a path broken by
Feet bare and worthy of a day's bread.

Into Maori candlelit concerts
And stranger's cars, void of concern
She strolls away again, and again,
From Bali love and American packaging.

Rita packs a scarf and heavy boots
And walks into the world.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

All That is Hidden

Some nights--
We catch the search lights
Like fireflies. They are stuffed into
Spaghetti sauce jars, the broken beams
Squinting through a punched out
Metal lid.

A twisted Norwegian maple
Breaks the sunlight
Over our heads--
If we laugh, the rubber
Tire interrupts us,
Slams against the
Breast of her trunk
To remind us where we are.

All her tiny, nonsensical babble
Is a trip wire to last night's
Dreams, shooting up through
Us, like eel shocks. Still
We wade in deeper, and lay back
Letting the leeches suck on.

Green slime clings to
The white siding of our lives--
Still, and yet,
Our meadow hearts desire
An acid solution.