IT IS FORBIDDEN TO THROW STONES AT THE POLYTECHNIC

Commandos
dangling ropes
explain themselves
in unapologetic art.
Look under any bridge,
I guarantee
her back will arch.

 

 

AUNT MARGIE THE ROCK-HOUND

Tumbling watermellon quartz.
The talk is courteous
and sand vamps the room.
We picnic as rural trackers.
The food's metronome diet
goes down swell.
Multitasking Margie,
she puts just enough butter
in her sandwich
to entice a Viking.

 

 

HARBOURING THE ANALYTICAL

Remember when we saw those shapes
by the side of the road?
We thought they were men
bending over.
They turned out to be
air ducts.
Later,I had to go back
and apologize
to them all individually.

 

 

THE WING TAKES A VACATION

Chest pains near the V
then Gibralter beckoned.
A small place,
the sum of its parts.
Mornings on the veranda.
Coffee beneath the jet streams's
eccentric behavior.
Keeping an eye out for the neighbors
a view that knows no compromise,
still gossips
little asides to the wind.

 

 

HOMILIES OF A LUNATIC

There were less trees
and the people started dying.
More metaphors for
the soul to embellish.
It wasn't until
the annimals became perturbed
and the nonrhythmic windmills,
arms flailing,
consistent with prudence.