when in doubt.

Playing solitaire by the water,

watching the clouds move over the game,

watching the sun fade away.

The weather is calm;

the souls are at rest today.

The people are watching 

from below

as well as above.

    

Cards are running low,

the deck is getting thin.

The day is fading away without me.

Golden bows

blast open the doorways

to unforeseen manifestations.

The stars and the moon arrive.

The soul is awakened by a purpose,

and then quickly runs out of ideas.

Nothing lasts forever.

         

Night comes,

making it hard to see

characters and playgrounds

bargained by jack’s and ace’s.

The joker, a trickster and a prophet,

reminds us

that there is always a truth within a lie

and some lies help to make us feel better.

dead letters for living people

summer boredom.

Lost in summer’s wasteland.

On your front steps,

watching Ra dance high above,

“puffing away in green lizard silence.”       

Occasionally disturbed by an

envious watcher or a nosy neighbor.

Inhaling the intoxicating     

fumes from the air

and the cigarettes we    

stole earlier in our boredom.

Attempting to melt away

in an afternoon’s hellfire,

leaving us a deep pang of

voodoo on the brain,

the day dropping

its massive weight on our heads.

Waiting for when vampires come out to feed.

“Where is Neil to tell us a story?

One about a dead king and a puppet

that kills his wife and death himself.”

Lost in summer’s wasteland,   

we sat on steps made of stone,

watching the moon and her new pair of shoes,

sitting,

listening

to a cricket’s orchestra.

dead letters for living people

a day like today.

Sitting on a park bench,

inhibited by my organs.

     

Virgin of a past age

welcomes the offer of money.

          

I hear my mother’s voice

telling me to wear clean underwear.

One dollar, two dollar, three dollar, more…

Insufferable questions are asked,

an old woman sings a song

a man asks her for a penny,

This is how I dreamed

a day like today would be.

          

I fall asleep and gaze at forgotten eternity.

 dead letters for living people