Once A Red Moon
moon sniffs
crotch of the tree.
The sea of roof.
Your shoulder against mine.
Chair Between Occupations
The chair in its
between occupations
period.
It doesn't belong
to me. I see silence
sheds leaves
from its nearby
bough that mimics a man
with cold shoulders.
The chair begins
to rock the balcony.
The Hiss Of The Line
water on my palm
serpent of lifeline hisses
back at my eyes
sunlight granules rubbed
I can say, my eyes reddened
because of fever
fervor becomes
the word of the day
I amble from here to the blur
my hand seeks support
from those long sunlit walls
city fences with its shade
from the dive board leaps
something and when I turn my head
there is nothing to see.
There is nothing to see
so I can scratch off my eyes
You can stop hissing
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