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