OPUS THREE©
BLOSSOM HILL ROAD
glide, glide monarch butterflies
days of Bach and roses
fruit of centuries, palm trees
Rosicrucians, Winchester Mystery House
grand ball rooms, stairs to nowhere
caterpillars crawling everywhere
implacable
countless steel feet, row after row
making way for the silicone overlords
crushing cherry trees
the dust has settled
palm trees are occasional ornaments
ego spires tower
glinting windows reflect the glare
only the butterflies remain
meek insects
Bach was unbelievable anyhow
porpoises in a tank
bounce the ball
get the treat
crowds applaud the smartest
WHEN TIME IS FORGOTTEN
this Ouija pen glides on ball point juices
leading through surprises
lifetime's bruises
celebrating emancipation
cobblestone ruses
mountainous rumbles
it draws upon obscure events thought forgotten
a sudden silence
fictions of happy slaves
river valleys
over flown with cranes, insects
underwritten with a slowness of snails
that glisten on their way
towards someplace in my front yard
strewn with compost
carefully screened
snails that will promenade on trash removal day
an obscure acquaintance alive in memory
reappears
long forgotten for no reason
with his brilliant smile
reminisce of displaced happiness
before slavery
perhaps a premonition
which these words cannot convey
windows washed clean
flecked with rain
A CELEBRATION
rain hesitates
a breeze bears incense
the gutter spout tattoos
neighbor's house a shadow
our birch tree in morning sun
while small birds tug catkins
seeds flutter down
airborne fireflies
