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Red Hydrant
two red and white hydrants
lined the sidewalk
up against the field
weeds
familiar things
dripping from the buttercups and dandelions
time is no boundary
in neither grass nor thistle
the prickle bush
eyeing the main
and each says
there ain’t enough room for the both of us
in this town
Coffee Cup Clutch
I saw the coffee cup clutch
that nursed the shoulders round
and contorted song into commuting sleep
of civilizations found
the chalice reaps what elbows keep
in darkened thoughts profound
nurse flashing lights
and silver queens
of isolating surround
resound the sleep of familiar keeps
in silver wedding gowns
and talons keep
the soul to reap
in shadows that do abound
This Place
The ghosts in the rug of this floor
and this building
at this time
are special
they always were
and should always be
brick by brick
stone by stone
at any price
for our own good
this house of heritage
and it stands
albeit leaning in the wrong direction
but is the ghost really there
and do we care?
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Cement Pipe Plot
Below the bridge
where grey meets grey
and pipes of all sizes
residing alone
different shapes and different looks
even plastic per-say
space for the forklift
tire tracks in the gravel
in the grey
spaced to pile
to rain and sun
prism of circles
triangles of columns
which heap shall be exhumed
and which tale should do the work?
fitting
the pipes that stand with clarity
before me
fitting these pipes of their own accord
and the marvel of symmetry
that symmetry
symmetry
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