Can I get a witness?

A rearview mirror with silver reversed

so motley reflects a bald-faced ride

of forward lusty sweaty rolls, reet slide

and how those sideview lips are pursed-

arisen, a crispy vision might have sunk

erect when almost stopped traffic

genuflects, a feast this scarlet trick,

ash ridden sackcloth firm in trunk

a purring look at me growls fantastic

preached as con jesus the holy way out

squared from grave to holy roller doubt

two short arms boxed grace cast plastic-

ask a mirror's imperfect glass to reveal

a savior's perfect hidden smirk unreal.

pounding a yog on the ammo box, 2 am

owl vibrato

over moonlit cockade blush

mimosa blossoms

a bolus of dried cranberries for coney

Bungee corded cargo caught between ditch and

the river drops into rubbery knocking rhythms

on a gravel path kicking red dust that coats

sharp oiled sprockets and chains to a province south

of brush strokes flat and grace notes rhyme:

the periwinkle glow flattened laughter

on the banks of newly sprouted fescue

calls and draws with fingers curled

hinting foreign ways in blown clouds

and thorny pink hedgerows close

near ash felled trunks mottled white,

poached giraffe hide on bank chopped

a fractal map of bark design mimicked

in bits and pieces and pieces and bits.

A gape faked for brickwork fades

and chipped red is just unpointed

mortared oil, anointing aromatic grief

with a grey feather flipping in the mulch-

scarlet leaves worm-eaten loose today

but not the sun whitened log noose hung

by denim fingers frayed in unskilled blue.

A recall of how few things are known but

to the common wise so obvious a nucleus

is small sun calico on a cool steel guardrail

and there's a perfect rock to break the black

and sink until blue under the foamy spillway:

a drowned name on a granite bench carved,

a bleached burst of plastic flowers timed

to mourn the rainbow that one arced breath-

the price of tossing that burden is somewhere

being shed enough for tears and laughter both.

Let the mind prattle to exhaustion

and you're left counting rabbits in a morphine haze-

look, there's one over there.

It's beige.

A gift of green mussels gone

Flash of blown snow in August

an aural blizzard driven wavy

as memory mirrors one lined

lost lane to hard cracked two:

drifts mounded to sandy dunes

of seaside grass that trembles

near curtain slats partly open

five hooked fingers pull shell

to split full lips from beardless

sands tracked on nacre floors,

cooled by paneled ocean breezes

doors swollen down to aqua sea

and a sticky lizard laughs beige

at the gravity of stucco walls

gladly not to sweat the beady

orange tricks of salty summer,

the pink necklaces of blush

that fritter in the mangrove

provide cover for the titter

of bashful larks as the scrub's

unexpected scent of raspberry

envelopes an unplucked flower.

The scene not too unseasonal

to offer wry spreading frost

webbed silver in spun summer

causing flashed peaks to stiffen

with the surprise of early chill:

to trace back crash to Wednesday

in the boney script come please,

penned in aqua ink the day before,

imagined blue flats a foundation

for the invite shy of bas-relief

the wet release at lost belief,

a delight to the slippery slip

a worn cloth belt champion grey

on the frayed white damask sofa

and sliding on pearly puffy drips.

One last peak at tawny tight skin

a museum quality veneer covering

fictions and histories and exits,

one lasts as the mirror glazes

ice forward glacier white

a straight-jacket yardstick

from an under blaze heard

the swoop of three egrets four

is white down in eastern sky

and just back from the stars:

a gift of green mussels gone.

one day your jellyroll will

One way to be in the world

is to live jerk furtive

in the quick store carpark

squat behind buick wheel

scraped and all banged in,

hungover unshaved erect,

with no pony tips to play.

Mocha big gulp balanced

on vinyl dash cracks with

your beige savior upright,

one gloss ring per bored day

making a coaster extra luxe

while spitting your dribble

onto seedy shifting carpet,

rubbed off brake and clutch.

Sneaker tongue shot eyelet

worn through daily rhythm,

enjoying only in your mind

white sweats stretched elastic

from damp plastic into trash

when the lap becomes the thighs.

Ritual light and sweet

a morning queue wait,

flapping brown packets

of sugar bulging pre-tear

next to spills of coffee

and ashes from the suck of now:

an ask never even noticed

glimmers into wasted guilt

from the gimlet of your eye.

Death wish goose limping,

invisible to chrome hoods,

tries to reach the wood

wondering how much glass

is really in this world.

it ain't why

with no keen counter to humid flats

rose of sharon mauves in mid-august

burst in the eye's betrayal legion and

under gables feral a longing drenches

poured down panes flapped lead peels

mixt and ridden by unguttered rain

curved up on wetness sweet at splash

to poke in furtive quiet an arbor hid

of unripe grapes climbing scaling blues

unfixed to picket and pecking lark

from rolling front behind her back

chopped bug tagged his rust creep box

red caboose with curled black arrow

lined blue and green and it was good

the sprayed art of him spiked in flats

black white moonlit that snapped away

skirt stuck paisley intact from quickly

licking came pale the same curved thigh

clanged iron recoil from a pearly quiver

balled up panties by the engine track

a nacre nib in fiction so perfect fades

recorded to a wrinkly black book

in pocket shady ink on onion skin

culled smile over donuts plated plain

and peaceful rings of cooling coffee

on gray speckled veneer chipped thin

to plywood dusted sweet and low

scratching the dawn he went up swiss

got on the china horse near needle park

and not returned through alpine drifts

less days ahead than behind the bark

what happens after fade to black

is just what happens now