2.2.14

We Are Chinless

on behalf of the shelves
of princely hometown gossip
the driver knighted sachmo
to the syncopated horns of sugar rum cherry

he left late and smelled of lafco
sang early to the cargo lines an port
we are chinless 
we are lonely
do you listen, are you welcome?
i do, I am, I do, I am

a Tshirt was used as a pillowcase
and then, again, as a shirt
the shelves story riffs
on the Duke's  grey morning coffee
and turns to you
to say he hears you have broken things off with chalk
but decided to stay in Tacoma

he asks do I want two eggs scrambled or three
but I am not hungry
instead, I feel like i am in an alley
and i have just found one flawless shoe


4.1.14

2.1.14

natalie wood

isnt true that love and hey jude
are born of the same tin can?
the homesick migratory calm of window-glass,
small-hatted children's songs and vanilla.
the painted metal walk-bys of nested southern cities
france's pride and loneliness, its worn stone
The colored chairs were misremembered as a set;
I will outlive the passing thought of you.