but holy all the same

our shadows in the snowy landscapes in the shadows of

macy’s

and faceless alleyways

the war

big red cannons and the blast of victory

claiming only a past life

mortar falling debris around us

one last time

that gray water falls safely on coral spears

a sea of whatever, some static

maybe

little rafts waving arms from little windows

some little spaces between squares colored

orange-brown, a tree between roads

no cars

places to hide myself in plus inside things set down

in the shattered landscape

comings and goings to and from this house

the animals sigh and lie down in the dust

where the grass was

ready for a summer’s nap

that ocean quiets and one by one

those ships

they’re going to get going

on its blue grill

the war

tiny destructions still lit in the ash

new and old

i am an arbitrator between

myself coasting into me, and water

the one clearing the vessels

perhaps

off this dirty beach inside my mind

where i let the whale ships rust or rot

going off to sea now

going into the bluish bull-pile

on that thing

what is it

our tomorrows,

our forevers

taking eternal steps each tearful exhausted foot

like a hostage

quietly

without a sound

smaller

and

smaller

all the way

down

to

a

dot.

Drift

Drift

we grow so old

right here

so old,

oh baby…

like seawebs or drifting power lines

hurricane bent

into my favorite lurch

i miss you

while you are next to me

beached we are

in the blur of blue

light

ray

television slumbered we are not watching

we just like to be together

under this

canopy

of safe

while…

while that world outside freezes

when we are together

it freezes

and

well

like a seaweb or drifting power lines hurricane bent

into my favorite lurch

it drifts

or

we drift

with it

clothesline—animals in the clothes on the clothesline—

plus everything

blurred colorful colored sunlit

framing the whole lines of blowing clothes—blues jeans—

in the air—

saltwater air

booze breath

oh shit

we grow so old

right here

so old,

oh baby…

Moon

Moon

So Moon…

you seem distant

dull even

lifeless

but

so much projection around you

so much projected onto you

the sun, for one

all up in your business at night

it is so hard for you to hide

and

you wallflower satellite

so many sing songs for you

in your name

you are unmoved

you neither like

nor dislike

it

the attention

you feel distant and you hover in place

if this were the prom

you would be back arched onto the gymnasium wall

watching the others dance

indifferent

but

you also feel no pressure

even though

the sea it relies on you to know when to give and take

itself to the land

its tide entirely up to you

you don’t remember how

you don’t remember when