My current trend in writing is to treat it like bits of code. Debugging as time goes on (fixing spelling/grammarish issues).

Most of these poems will rest the way they are written, but given time and interest many will see a patches or 2 before it is over.


The line.

Street side she smiles to herself
shoes in serendipity with her
facial formation
The heel is more than
Happy to spring from the curb and drop
3.5 inches to the soft tar
behind the fence line
fiends on long distant calls, listening in
on the latest news
bible study
braced for efficient
manageable travel

a city can only see the
shoe’s sole
Jacket logos
a cap
or a fresh hair-cut
it might Feel the
impressive pattern pressure
each like a finger print
each a snow flake
on a clear lake
a fist full of zebra stripes
littlest lines to drive along
to come to a sudden dead heat
almost alone
only you the lines,
and her

swish swash,
it’s no accident
in nature that the curves come on strong
with out warning
sashed between large white stripes
caused eyes to peel
engines to rev
motor clubs lost motivation
then the light went green

city, come to me as raw logic
a forest of connections
busy signals at every turn
where the heel can meet hardened earth
the singles club full of casual pedestrians
insane drivers,
porch sitters
dog watchers,
rock chasers
the whole lots just mixed up

but when you are sitting there in your car
watching geometric laws break
at seven am
before the coffee has percolated through
to the synapses
the wasted styrofoam cup still warm
she, the city with her
and all the road ways leading us all
makes sense.


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