Moveable Feast

reflection
in the        wet

    street.               oak

hangs dreaming.

the hint
of a flower,

two lips
              aching.

spring is     born

with its
eyes closed,

a dark
            lady's   kiss.

the kids

chase      rabbits.

Megabytes

Sometimes I forget
chapters of my life.

I might dwell on
when my friend Eric

and I pushed each other
downtown in a box

mounted to a skateboard.

Everyone drank Coke
out of glass bottles.

For a moment,

all I can remember
is the glass bottles

and the grimy
back alleyways,

my bare feet
black as the streets

and hard like leather.

Then, it dawns on me
how ten years later

I dug a pit beneath
a twisted old pine bush

and traded in my freshman
year of high school

for something closer to earth.

I built a lot of fires
and spent more time with animals.

I felt more centered
in the star map of night.

Then, I remember
the summer of 2006.

I took my video camera
everywhere and documented everything.

When you crashed your Mustang
I just stared at the stars

until I forgot every chapter
we ever lived together.

Spring Clothes

If I jerk my
elbows back

just right

my chest cavity
will crack open.

My epithelial

slides down
around my ankles.

I have really
chipped off the slag

this time.

Deltoids

I wish
I could make

more

Hamiltonian circuits

in my life.

Saturday
is no problem.

I always
check the square

footage of my

toilet paper.

I have three fish
that live in three

separate tanks.

I feed them
so they don't leap

out of the water
and transform

into spiders.

My dad is afraid

I will fall
into the Grand Canyon

and die.

That's the least
thing that worries me

about moving.

Meteor Shower

The pond

Is hungry

And the

Dark massive

Sky is aching

To kiss

The pussy

Willows

Wrapped

Around the

Whispering

Beam of light.

We came

To watch

The stars

Shoot and

Make our

Faces glow

Like two

Moons

waiting

For the cat

Tails to send

Something

Whispering inside

The curved

Slow

Ripples

Of night.

Ursa Major

Spoons

A large

Fish

And we

Are dripping,

Rapid,

Obedient, one.

God's Bastard

We skipped rocks
across the pond

one day

and became best friends.

On the outside
you were just a white kid

like me.

Some people thought we were twins.

I was confused when
you told me you were Japanese.

I hadn't yet understood

the difference between
nationality and ethnicity.

I cinched my eyes closed

with my fingers

and made ching chong sounds
to show you that I understood.

You opened your eyes wide apart

with your fingers

and in a slow, lazy voice
said, "Hi, I am A-mer-i-can."

We were inseparable.

Your father taught me
what it meant to be Christian.

Your mom was an angel,

she literally played the harp.

I understood God for the first time
and truly loved Jesus.

I think my heart

was even moved by your sister.

There were always fish
dancing in and out

of photographs.

(Love can be so abrupt)

We caught a bluegill
in the pond

one day

and the next day you were gone

like one of those rocks
skipping out of my life,

like one

of those bluegill.
Won't someone throw me a line.

Summer Home

Why does the
mini van look so little?

A crow attacks an eagle.

There are smaller birds
screaming in the distance,

in the tops of trees
like frightened children.

Ducks panic-waddle
in the skeletal waste of corn.

What are they running from?

Why do they all
fly back again in spring?