Shotglass Garden

Choking light out.  They're killing each other.
Faster as the nights fly.  They're killing each other!
Locked jacket sleeves knotted together
before an afternoon swim.
Locked sand, gravel, and aggregate
atop convulsing limbs.

I can't work on my peace garden
if I can't find my shears.
I can't work on my peace garden
if I can't find my shears.  Glass down.
I cannot work on my peace garden
if I cannot find my shears.  Glass down!
I CANTWORKONMYPEACEGARDENif-

                                   -oh.
                                     There they are.

Cool rim of glass to lips,
ice cube kissed in
to play with my tongue.
Cooing a song to the afternoon sun.
Gold and copper veins aglow.
"being with you, being with you, being with you."

Moonrise Over Blacktop

My two horse town.
My main street.
My high noon.

Telephone trees trumpeting my arrival.
My lady in waiting, sideview folded in
curtsy.
Bow.

Play her song,
keys winking in sunlight,
like beads on a roller
turned to tines of metal touching.

Waxing crescent
in the clear blue eyes.
Jealous Mars
waiting for a spotlight dance that falls on the cutting floor
crossing blacktop to hold the afternoon in the mouth

close enough
to feel her heart beat against
the red wind chimes of my flesh.

Blow wind autumn hussing at spring.
Turn my chin up stiff and wrecked and mighty
to lock eyes with his body, before I do.