Gradiva, Fall 2006

Into Focus

Smells like baby powder
As I reach my arm up
Scratch my back,

Looks like a windy vent
As the candle flame
Moves and darts
Like a ping pong ball on a roulette wheel

Seems as though science will clone
More than a human being
Some day.

Appears as though all creditors
Get together to talk
About their immense debt.

You see the crow diving into
The falcon's coop
As the old maid in a Catholic school uniform
Applies to be a truck driver.

The asphalt turns into black jelly,
The clouds remain vapors reaching down
A large hand that cannot grab onto a feather
Yet brings all the presumptions... assumptions...
Predictions. .. prescriptions... inscriptions

Into focus.

Silent Wink

Slow AM
AS the airplanes fly home,
Runways look like weathermen
Expecting rains to
Sweep away an early
Spring drought.

The gas meters humming
Like beggars
Sipping a beer
In the newest bar
On the edge of a corner
Giving out free drinks
To the first 124 people
Coming through
The door.

The locusts dancing
With the lady bugs
As my half full glass
On the ledge
Winks in