the poet roof-slopes, feet hanging
on for a rhyme�����������as if the sky might
be caught in the gutter with words

to follow � cigarette hanging on blues
for the million������quartz-hard sunlight
must be more than must be more than

overpainted toenails holding a garden
in themselves, or the chance of one
in the dirt of a weekend������wake up

with a strawberry between your toes
and morning madsongs insistent
on seed seen under the magnifying

glass of feathers acquired in the night �
cliches are memories and your feet
the sea man, the dance and the swoon

inflate the breath mingling back
take that as your own


�2005 by PJ Nights