off grid

the poem on my wall
says what i haven't written
in so long. a higher than normal
raincount, winter drags his feet
over the northeast, the last greenland
ice sheet crumblling its crusty top
on the top of yankee ingenuity but
 we're on the way to waterworld
let's hope the gene splicers
can get gills for the elite
before the seas swallow the rest of us.
because you would want
the human race to carry on
wouldn't you?



















*(**













it's gonna be hot
 in my kitchen. strawberries
 on the lips of saint toddler grown up
dance for us in your new hat,
 take a bow
take a smoke
move as moon and sun
at the prow of a boat built for two
from a devil's dance and a comic mask
follow the trail of hearts left whole
floating up or down, depends on your view
and how love once, is always/never
 written here on my wall in
braille for the sighted,
 please be delighted, budha chant
slightly rant, the speakers are primo,
tequila tiempo. ia once dreamed
  peace,   enough space for a potted
 germanium to flourish
polished blond floors, tastely tiled, sheer blue curtains
blow like a remnant of your iris. if you'd just open your eyes.