CALLE BELDERRAIN
Flesh of my tenebrous old fleshtone sucked into his own
Wind-scattered footprint by the orphan’s
Porous fist
Of earth like a primered
Monte Carlo up on blocks
Some kind of fish taco trailer
Changing hands
& the primordial mica-painted milk
& neon arrow
Blur my scale model nocturne still
THE SPANISH TRAIL MOTEL
I’m on a park swing dipped way back,
five thousand year old honey from the pyramids
apportioned in plastic
Popeye’s packets,
I am aging, aging,
blistering up from the firmament,
nuzzling clouds,
a duller
unhyped grade of stars
the distance & obscurity I love
the buzzing, the leaning in sway
at the parentheses of deadly galloping that gird
each speeding tanker I-10 bent around the
time that remains to set
even one thing right
Small amount of bleeding, some vestigial tail in
between 25th & 26th streets
shy to snap its tendril
Tooth, an uncolored digit transported in ice
return to ISSUE ONE