Gesture

unmistakable 

streaming unerring beck 

a song 

birds call. 

Et Leviathan Ego

I swear if I were God, I’d tear a hole 

In the heavens to hide myself, 

Knowing full well that blasphemy 

And evil so dark 

The universe would rend itself asunder to know. 

On I-90 in Big Sky Country, 1976

A below zero morning somewhere between 

Bozeman and Billings, a small blue-colored bird 

On a wire fence with the road ice keeping us moving along 

Slow enough to see its breath another cumulus cloud forming. 

Haunt

Time to get a move on, ghostbusters— 

Though the soda jerk’s a jack-off 

In spotless white, Pop’s soda fountain’s still 

A dark threat waiting round the corner, 

His Wurlitzer bubbles wet dreams 

Of youthful effervescence, it’s now or never— 

The old gang’s dying to get back there. 

Universal Poetic Aspirations

These galaxies keep spiraling 

Towards an infinite number 

Of impenetrable black holes— 

Don’t they know 

They can only go in so deep.