Blooming in snow 

It was late

in the dark

with no moon

.

A breeze

moved us

to dance

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Decades of Daydreams

The headline, “Enough”

the soundtrack, ‘80s

the wall, dripping with plants

the page, crumpled with vulgar notes

the picture, craving dimension

the sky, a mottled grey and far away

the belly, butterflies dancing on pasta

the road, dangerously curved

the daydream, an explosive nostalgia

the time, same as it ever was.

From the torn road (near the train tracks)

Three trees on the edge of the playground,

all from the same root system,

swayed to whisper to the lone bicycle wheel

in the yard over the fence.

“The gnomes are awake at the Stevenson’s,”

the trees said in leafy unison.

“Oooooo,” sang the wind through the wheel.

They stood watch over cracked cobbles

and leaky hoses.

There was nothing but shadows

to mark time, which was everything.

Gutter Magic

The little flare of denim over my shoe
gives me unmistakable pleasure.
I wonder how I’d sound as a cello.
I give away my moans so easily,
it’s no great leap to the Piedmont.
There’s magic in a spun gutter.

Sunset Over Macadam

The sixth time he faded was harder
because I had to use my other hand
to count. I kept my cool for once
and didn’t mention how I levitated
over cracked linoleum when I was four.

There’s barely room for magic these days
with wires and satellites claiming
the landscape, but still I love to float
even if just for a few minutes above
dandelion fields. That’s a small bravery.

We lingered over a common hill
but found the lost years so brittle,
our hands were left holding dust.
Sundance and the Kid couldn’t have
picked a better fadeout.