The washbasin faucet turns off now there is water
In the world not of the world the clouds from the sky
How can there be an other when there’s a self asks the lilac
tree
The moment the funicular is full everyone feels alone
A book store in spring even here there’s the smell of the
beach
The proffered ID takes some of the sting away the twin’s
mistaken
The wisteria are hysterical the moon is a jejune blue
The moon is the rotted fruit in the still life bogarting the
ennui
The location shoot has packed and moved police are left to
direct ghosts
If I didn't run in horror I would never have fallen in love
I love but the angels play so hard to get I'm lost in red
azalea
Sweet potatoes grow in the compost there are so many lethal
thoughts
I melt so easy into everything that's why I'm totally alone
Fighter jets glide to Long Beach we release a ladybug army
Love solidifies to rock before it coalesces to symbol
Long grey days of noisy silence but it's a great hair night
for the boys
The dream of leaving for Perris or Palmdale the center of
nowhere
With the moon this full how could I know how empty the May
winds left me
We all wore white for the May Faire and totally failed to
look the same
The long road from love into expression but it stays an
observer
The crow still bellows ill-ease despite the yellow in Palo
Verde trees
The lilac tree refuses to give up its blooms remembering
heaven
A bike splayed in glass across the street roped off like a
museum piece
For this I’ve given up all but what I wanted most to lose
myself
Lilac trees make me think of making love which makes me
think of lilac trees
The lizards move like sunlight one poses for the kind
photographer
The lost umbrella has a private tour of roses in dwindling
light
The cool sun is trouble in its slow descent when time does
not exist
The soda matron sits in lonely judgment the leaving free
refills
Tent homes on the banks are now empty birds have returned to
the river
Grand Park has waited all year for these lilac trees to drop
their petals
