Three Poems

MOTORCYCLE


Dark deserts with shadow bones
Dancing along

Turning out the shooting stars
One after another and one more
For the blind man
My greatest fate will be describing the
Vibration that comes with a shooting star
Over old best friend beach in Massachusetts

Spinning a big catch of kisses
Twirling out a meteorite that will
Pummel the
Flesh to the melting point













FULLLY CLOTHED IN A FIT


It all turned out like this
Beautiful
Or
Falling over and getting up
Yes oh yes and wake

Women falling over
Spilling their lips
The drinks kept coming
With the turn of the hours
They kept pouring down

Like a shadow in fast motion
As the coming dawn
Saints take to the streets with
Whiskey and sunglasses

They take to the hills
The rise of morning and my blood
Is murk








WEIRD EAR

I heard something weird in my ear
So I leaned harder into it
Into the soup of your whisper