And another old found poem (2011)

ENTROPY

tacos under a small rain, light beers

the air a petrichor mush weeping into the untended spaces in our chests

a woman with a mouth like a carp,

gulps down cigarettes like little white mints

clouds smear into sky around the restaurant

a dark breast pushing behind it all

the edges the smoothed sheen of a spaceship wall

it was going to get awful

for a long time

almost like all this light is a waste

Another Old Poem (2012)

 LIMINAL

there are no poems tonight

pink sky cloud pink nipple pink porch light

so nice to be and not have been

to not have to go

ANOTHER FOUND POEM - 2005

ACCIDENT STATEMENT

I ordered a vegetable burrito with no beans.

She asks, “just the rice?” I say yeah, meaning

a vegetable burrito with everything except beans.

But they kept passing my sad, naked burrito down the line,

with only rice inside.

I had to tell the lady who adds the guacamole

that I wanted a vegetable burrito

so she could add the squash and red peppers - which she did -

and I took it to some empty part of the food court to eat.

It was fine.

However, as I was drinking my soda,

and my intention is not to make you uncomortable,

or get too serious in a poem about a burrito,

but,

it was the last sip of my soda,

you know the bit left between the ice

that you have to slurp up,

well, while I was slurping I remembered my father

playing dueling cowboys with me, at the bus stop,

both of us sticking our thumbs straight up

and our index fingers straight out like guns

and when my bullet landed, through my sites

his hand over his heart

as he went down

and I choked on my soda

like

a sonofabitch

for no reason whatsoever

but some guy,

some dweeb in a golf shirt,

saw me choke,

scowled,

looked away

and had no idea

I had a life before all of this.