WHITE SUMMER.

This is a compilation of 3 poems I wrote last year that I felt worked well together, three parts of one summer 2013. 

ETIQUETTE.

A guilty groundward

glance, an ache against

meeting the all and all of 

eyes. A screaming bell,

soaked stray sod, my

head bowed - Hey! 

Hey. Miles away. A 

black spot slid cross-

walk by black dog, 

chattering trenchteeth,

the stars that hang above

brittle with deadleaf tremble - 

How you been? Well, Hell

is an open-pilled palm

extended every instance, 

knowing no matter red or blue,

again you’ll be asked 

to choose - 

Fine. You? Alive, wagering

from the walking. I’m

actually really good, Chris, 

Fine. You. Alive. I actually

had a dream where miles

away, I was a bell in the rain. 

...but yeah, really great

running into a gesture glibly

given, hoisting the back-

borne bones - You too,

take care - the ceiling

was waiting.