37 - Passing

Footbridge west, in wire sheath shooing suicides to privater places

The air is close in agreement — go!

Souls of bleached stars transmigrate earthward as

Fools gold flecks of east hill homes electric test the resistance of viscous night.

Lawnfronts studded with grenade-weight cones

The rot bombs of spendthrift flora, I heft

A good palm-feel and sap-swell

To launch them, plant air in the sedentary fog.

Posters all-over-plastered in town tell me

Find your inner light!

There are so few places, any more.

I catch an errant breath of redwood pine

But it diminishes, like a teacher.

3 - For a Friend Alone at Night

At dusk, the warm of you
diffuse into the cool
collects the waternight in
young leaves’ gifted breath—
The jewels of dew.
And you are limb-heavy with
this weight of untaken
exhalations
languishing in
verdant excess,
left to your own keeping.
But water seeps;
drops from tips of fingers
trickling soilwise to subtle roots
the subterranea of ardor fed
are sipped for arborescence.
You are the littlest rain
that’s fallen to me,
field friend.