Noisy Snow

in heavy snow on Tuesday i heard
the   hissss   of true white noise
as flakes car-crashed down to earth
each wreck rear-ending another until
a fluffy junkyard littered my town

WHILE ASTRONOMERS WERE ASLEEP

in molasses dreams
i drew out your pain
with oily red pastels
in growing shapes and swirls
on thirsty paper squares

placed in jealous hand-blown bottles
i buried them in a field and waited
for their rebirth into stars
on a clear April night
while astronomers were asleep

REASON  THE DAWN WEEPS

i whispered your poem
over morning coffee
to the spider
to pregnant succulents
and to my water color palette
whose dehydrated rainbow
begged God for resurrection
into ten thousand miles
of canvassed sky

WAITING FOR A HAIRCUT

thin cables connect lazy buildings
intersecting at perfect angles
drawn against a gray sky
by the drafting gods 
who lean over their blueprints oblivious 
to zero degree air that numbs my fingers
as the frozen branch clears his throat 
and prepares for a speech on springtime

 sitting together
in the mall
the slightly pudgy
teenager scratches
her father's back
as he reads a book
obviously waiting
for a shopping wife
the girl's tender touch
a payback for all the times
he checked her closet
or under her bed
for monsters

ROCKWELL’S  PAINTBRUSH

It's easy to fall back in love with Rain 
walking on a damp Saturday
morning after escaping
some dry apartment.

Tiny rivers  lured by lower ground
rush across sidewalks
as you hear her mixed beat
pattering on an umbrella. 

The darkened tree bark
and bouncing leaf,
moved by a wet touch,
makes you love her.

Rain browns the gray wood poles
and reddens thirsty brick ,
she steals through leaky roofs
in search of seeds at rest.

Her force makes water run and stand
(is that possible without legs?).
Rain insists that frogs
blink their shiny eyes

as she drops and bubbles
on a bulls eyed pond.
She makes hearts fall in love
and is there when they fall apart.

Your love will forgive Rain
when her fury washes bridges
and babies out to sea without care,
 as our flags hang like

glory-less dish rags
over paper warships carried
towards street drains. 
You smile secretly as Rain 

ambushes fresh hair-dos, humbling
ladies before the big night out,
and you marvel at her patience
as mountains fail

crying uncle one molecule 
at a time.  Her compassion
connects distant souls
to this reflective world.

You will give Rain your vows again
when, one block from home,
she provides puddles
for the brightly dressed three

to stomp in, laughing and screaming
in plastic coats and polka dot hats,
as they call back in time
to Rockwell's paintbrush.

A BOXER TIRES

i miss your touch

of tender times

when anger's ice cube melted

a puddle on our floor

soaked up by a white sock

after my guard had fallen

like a piss drunk old man

MYRMECOLOGY

my fingers see furrows drawn in wavy hair
as i run my hands over this reclusive head 
that stares  at the ant (free of heart)
hauling its Triscuit bounty to a tiny crack 
that i would  pay fifty large to crawl into tonight