Days are sunny, clouds form
ever-changing images in motion and there
is a cool breeze blowing in from across the
dirty river. From among the branches
of a wise, old tree we can see a whole new
world – it is soft and green and it is
The mountain was bald for a short wet
while just after the Arizona sun singed the
desert’s skin and we got baked – yeah, we
were like leather – tough and tanned in our
shady tree-top hideout.
Looking down at the ground from a higher
elevation we smiled at the beauty of it all
from a distance, simply wonderfully
naturally at peace and in touch
with our surroundings
completely comfortable not seeing the forest
for the trees but seeing our world from a tree
in the forest.
into vase deserted corridors.
spiraling at and away
from its source.
with bullets in mind
the smell of wet nail polish
and nicotine at my lips
Sam’s cellular is out of service
Little boy boxer, Roy
Lives in the bus stop ghetto.
The sun leaves me
for the harsh eyes of darkness
in the company of two.
Black candles bleed
A young man feeds
on the tangy flesh
of yet another
who grazes in the bush
of his love
lapping at the milk of