Wednesday, October 12, 2011


Winded on a Trampoline


I clutch at clouds,
burn my brow on sunbeams,
lick blue moons with a rainbow-scythe.
But as day caves away
a wind whips through my stomach
and I’m dumped in its wake.

Magpies brush low over cut grass.


Thrumming cicadas numb the wet sandstone.


A pair of sneakers over powerlines.




Purple and gold in the clouds above.



Some stars beginning to stir.




(published in Visible Ink, 2011)