Trade routes spider-web past this old house

steel to you

hope to me

Everybody’s got a moustache in the wasteland



The old man built a fence to keep his old woman out

of the tomatoes.

The wife sharpened her knife and left the house

to buy some salt.

Upstairs the children were agony and excitement


Scarlett hit the skin so hard breaking my sharona.



Pin-prick puddle room redundancy

in the murky blue yonder

I hatched a heron who fell in love

“what a pretty little catch”

Well, he pretty little caught her

with honeydew words one dark dawn

and down out of the nest

.                                    she spilled

.                                                into dissonance.



Heron got real hip and spent his winters crooning

at chickadees.

He sold his soul every summer to floating

in treetops.

Four years ago Hipster Heron overdosed on bebop


the feelies.

At his funeral,    I    am    still    laughing.


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