Hatchlings

They’ll never spawn; these fish,
Drained of their life’s purpose,
Fill a stream with leaping rainbows.

Like a dog-eared page corner

The cat’s upward-thrust leg marks the spot
she was washing
Before headlights on the wall
Drew her eye
Dazzling her
Making her lose- for just an instant- her place in the bath.

six

Glossy blackbirds gobbling
Even brighter scarlet berries.
They hop from bush to bush
Until- too drunk to drag themselves
Around- they take to the sky.

five

She’s dancing toward me
But not for me
Breasts jouncing
Stomach undulating
Hips twitching
Left
Right
Left
Gaze fixed steadily just above my right shoulder.
A chirrup of zills a flick of her hair she whirls away
Rose and patchouli in her wake.
Snatching up a veil, she drapes it
To cover her face not her glistening body.
Then she’s spinning-
A whirlwind of Bollywood colors-
Urged on by the ululations and
Handclaps of envious spectators.

four

I don’t condone these violet ways.
Your psycho path, friend, concerns me.
Like swimming through honey- your deep malaise-
Still I don’t condone these violet ways.
Noodling with wallflowers at hip soirees;
Breathing foulness into ears so yearny.
I don’t condone these violet ways.
You’re a psychopath. Friends concern me.

third

Loose hairs drop out and
wisdom and ramen; the old
man twiddling his beard.

A drop of blue

frosting
at the corner
of your mouth. Is this the
excuse I’m longing for to touch
your lips?