When Skeletons fall From Outer Space

When I look out that window
that cracked slightly in summer
which seems to make a winter
that is colder than a polar vortex
inside my home
that the bank is coveting,
with avarice and drooling,
and a rubbing of hands
that sound like baby powder
which falls from the sky
like the dust of the bones
ancient and dry
cold and forgotten
with traces of DNA
of ancient space walkers
who lost their grip
when a sattelite went off course,
I see my loved one
carrying my lunch
up the frosty walkway
and breathing steam
which warms me
inside.

Sincerity

Truculent porridge!
Recalcitrant day!
Open my door to meet with the wind
that overwhelms my breath
inhaling into my lungs
like a wicker basket
full of ideas
and seafoam.
Breakfast is over!

Growing Metaphysical Eyesight Over the Horizon

When the Lord made the angels,
She forgot to give them bones
which made her cry
like a little girl
as they
pathetically
flopped
on
the
Earth's
new
shore.

Stop Churning the Dust

I refuse to pray
the way
they do
in church.
I say Goddammit! Stop this sweating sun
and moonlit mold
poison ivy sting
itching tick-bite
tiny virus burrowing in my nasal cells when I have no Kleenex,
and wind churning up dust
in my eyes!
That is my Sunday to Sunday prayer.

Rainstorm in The Produce Section

Saving money
Spraying pressure
From the hose
To sprinkle broccoli
Never replaced
Constantly handled
Mistreated by kids
And untrained employees
A crack in the plastic
A jerk from below
And overnight
A constant flow.

Land Foils the Sea

To skate on air
one must believe
that going up
is just as
left or right.

The gravity of the belief
is just as
going up
just keeps us gliding
until we stop flapping.
Then it's up or
down.

Leaf With no Name

I am the leaf
that don't have no name
that you look on with distain
like a butcher or thief.

I dropped from my tree
without permission from the rest
to breathe my last breath
independent and free.