its raining on a sunny day

fastforward nine years
free your eyes from the road
stretching miles
ahead into a desert
a landscape of thorns and lost dogs
wandering wandering lost to the world
lost of purpose
lost like alligators in the dark
alligators hitching a ride
thumbs at the work
the yellow center line veering from
its deviated path
out off the road onto the grass
the dew had smeared the paint very wide
making the passage of time glide along
smooth as a skate or a pheasants back
a partridge or even a mudpuppy being very still
stop and pick yourself up off the floor
recognize that what the mirrors are there for to reflect
the heat back up to the sun

lymb

itching to fix
fixing to itch
two common afflictions,
there, easy to miss
a tic is a tick unless
its a flick of the wrist
bitten by this
systemic pest

orchestration at the depth of

ten thousand leagues
and one trophy to play for
one coronation one sun one balance beam
to stand upon

a slow bubbling from the top to the bottom
reversed images brass sliding on lead
a content worth holding
between the teeth and the tongue   's
 soft humidity descends on bread
broken flat sour
molding over the floor

empty window sockets
let the breeze pour in on
the back of a great big pigion
an anteater and a watermellon

june scales the wall and will
fall off the ceiling
to die a life of hard work in july
requiem that
request a tympanic drum to wake the morning
wait out the beat of sunlight speckling onto opened
palms waving at the break of night to day

as above so below

the fish look up
and the birds look down
everyone else just
looks around

in the dark

the leaves of grass are cold
at night their life matches
the soulless nitrogen
that passes and touches without becoming one with
and remains the same
the other parts descend and get stuck
the wetness has its own sound at night
everything is delicate and away from right
left alone it is still windless
waiting for a movement to relieve the feeling
of condescension that has landed
uninvited unscripted universal
to be lifted

compound meter

what is worth to a snail
the inch of paved road
is still as smooth as the broken glass
 mile that has passed
a snail to whome the earth
is as much a wave as the albatros
gloats over
trenches and peaks
never speaking never seeing
just breathing breathing breathing

hour hands

when the time is right
the trees take flight
giving up their prized possessions
a planetary moment n a rock
on a ledge
on an indescretion roots fanged
deep into purple earth
where snails crawl and give birth
to more snails spiders and diamonds
things slowly crawling with their casatles tied tight on heir back
like the proverbial mishmash

the trees will wind up in heaven
heavy homes left behind
left in a rish
left in a daze
left for good
left forgotten
not needed
not terrific but not refined

the trees will whisper to the sky
waving their viny hands
millions of green fans
letting the wind bow
to another land
leaving water dissolute
desolate man and all of his plans
where the problems began

steady state harmonic response

the system lags behind
itself a victim of the time

too many degrees of freedom
holed up in microscopic fleetings
heating in concert a rythm
shaking the entire prism

whistle along

the birds triplet dip
the bees buzz to and from
flowers in the breeze bopping
the trees with leaves brushing
behind the crash awash
with waves in the shade

wet pavement

a snail
a glorified slug
mucking a route
soft over rough ground

napoleonic yet given a waterloo
and a snail can persist
with a shelf life infinite

radial symmetry
eyes that get closer to see
whats to be passed under
and whats over land
under the sea

this is an animal that simply treads
leaving a glittering road behind
were once was not

proving the old maxim:
give a snail time
get a warning from a snail
or get slimed