For Lira

Buttery coos;
hello birdie.

A voice

in your rosy

breast fine-scale

woos the new

day to peer

over the horizon

and stay

fixed upon

dueling syrinxes

in disbelief of

competing radiation

touching bare

sky first.

I don't believe in heaven,

only your

                                       g

                        n

         o

s

         o

                        n

                                       g

On Notice

I.

Aging 

is squatting

in a burned out building 

whose earthly real estate 

is worth more than 

the crumbling 

con

     s

     truc     tio

   n.

No 

one is coming

to rebuild 

us back to 

our former glory. 

II.

The eviction 

notice 

will be served 

without warning.

Surrounding 

landmarks will

evaporate to make 

room for the new.

Increasingly unfamiliar,

in just a few years,

we won't recognize 

our way back                                   home.

This is urban planning

of another kind.

Unkind.

III.

So busy 

becoming, that 

we forgot to 

notice we were 

all-ready 

history.

Lost in Layers

Tired stars 

burning crisply.

Peaceful corners

blown to   o       bli     vi                  on.

Hoping hopelessly,

but you know

things are slow

to change

Canvas stretch

-er pollack primed.

Pedantic notes,

eyes dripping

this is

my blood.

Your blood.

My blood.

Your blood.

It will be

over when 

its all-over. 

Popular Standard

                             PRESCRIPTIONS   

CANDY

CIGARS                                                      ICE

                                                                  time

NEWS PAPERS                                         CREAM

MAGAZINES

     Two                         bobbed socks

     ga-Zeldas               lean           

     While                      rising hemlines

      Play                       pleated peekaboo

      With                      freckled knees.

     Infinite                  adolescence.

    Possibility           isn’t about a

   Tomorrow.          It's about the

   perfect rag        curl and     reminding

the camera that “I’ll never     smile 

   Again” is          L more       than NCHE

      just a                      popular

      stand-                   ard.

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