Left to Right.

A used match, nestled in oddly speckled dust,
together with remains of food from the distant night before.
Scars of the house bleed out dying fires.
Beyond?
The portal to the world with vintage lights floating over
a neon green setting sun.
A shadowed forest creeps its fear to the tiled,
pot-holed streets of America.
A forged Impressionist, hanging proud in con.
What's this? Empty space.
Dotted blue square of nothing for anyone.
A Soviet spy in a frame looks over, watching
in the name of Papa Stalin, always!
A sketching elephant sits meshing colors and lines to art.
A bag sprawled with traveled clothes and wise literature
with stupid letters and words.
Some gifts from neighbors lay unopened, unappreciated.
Finally, wooden guitars wait to impress,
lay against the wall.
Rested but in a state of unrest.

Genesis

In the morning when grey white skies wake up early
and Dante's Divine Comedy stops the traffic in my head,
that's when my hand speeds over paper, my fingers cold with inspiration.

It's a never-ending tale in literature,
hidden in attics under Adam's roof.
Dances with snakes, tripping over apples underfoot.
It's just a short fall to Europe and Asia, and their Eden-
Tanks, metal, and computers, all that twisted imaginary faith.

Ash dirties the bare feet missing their golden sandals from above.
Orchards melting in acidic screams, Eve is crying in guilt-
fur coats and ball point pens.

Millions molest the cover of this edition,
licking the ends of the pages, smelling the text.
Prayer in schools.

Seven Presidents.

Driving on a road I'd been on hundreds of times
in the crevice of the past,
but never alone.
Its sea-misted cement runs with me,
edging me to the final release of
perfect calm.

Waves of gulls stretch their hollow wings
in the rushing wind
as I spread my arms and feel the lifting
of my soul's feet to the ocean sky
and slowly touch back
to the sifted sand.

The water's currents break in
unnoticed harmony.
The birds' quiet song, an opera.
A water-colored cloud filters divine
hues of light, and the cold bites
the refreshed skin back to civilization.

The shore nods in silent understanding,
the gulls cry again.

Advice.

Standing among the rows of labeled vitamins
clutching at my back-
months of ignored strains.

Up walks the dark haired deity,
smiling and feeling, sharing,
my pain.
"Stand straight, eat bagels, and feel your muscles
dance to health!"
She smiles, rolling on the balls of her feet.

And then!-
Out the door, into the shower
of headlights and winding night road-
forever.

Small.

A movie runs its course in my thoughts.
The hero awakening on the moving island
of dirty science.

Exploration leads to monopolies and Walmart
in your home town.

Pater sympathizes with little evidence or cause.
Invasion of dream, psychedelia,
and summer.

Phone Calls From the Family of Nobel at 12:16 AM.

The clock has long been sleeping,
snoring my minutes.
R.E.M's a thief!

Animals are composers with organs
and mescaline.

Songs of soul and simple life whisper
into muddied reality.

Slow moving time revs a motor-
sneers at my habitual nocturnal trips.

Swan Lake.

'No Parking' read the sign, as we quietly pulled in.
Walked up and around, anticipation and a grin.

Across the bridge, there it lay, a river of soul-
Swans lazily abandoning their busy patrol.

Suns reflect across the whispering stream
As we cheer our success as an All-Star team.