won’t hold up

my thoughts won’t hold up . . .
all this deep fried scrutiny
totally rendered

off to Babylon

southbound, hammer down
she’s a gypsy once again . . .
off to Babylon

down a hill

how did I get here . . .
must have fallen down a hill
my crown is broken

shines through

doors are open wide
on the boxcars as they pass …
setting sun shines through

dawn waits

dawn waits patiently
listening to special birds …
waiting for a break

rarified air

on the backhand side
but sliding uphill quickly …
such rarified air

offhand crescent

offhand crescent moons
shine between the lines of truth …
broad beams opened wide

lonely planet

snowstorm moons erupt
on lonely planet systems …
woebegone wolves watch

cream cone

turkey in the straw
sweet sound of an ice cream truck …
gimme a cream cone

both her hands

powerful sander
she wasn’t experienced …
cuts on both her hands