BOOKS

the paperbacks
in the queue

hold their breath

theyre meditating
before hands

time is spider leg lines
in their bent broken spines

and i dreamed
the trees outside
were
the
cheap 
gold
of a glam rock jumpsuit

~

the pages of a hardback
thrown
open
onto
the thick clover lawn

turn unsure in the wind

 h e s i t a t e

then
wave to the marching clouds
between the conversation of birds

~

in the sentry silence
of the patio pots 
theres rain spots
on ampersands now
and 
on
chapter ones cliff hanger ending

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