May 262015

A light aimed at one of our spacecraft
from Ceres, rogue planet, aliens stranded
on a dying world, lost in space

Maybe like us someday



Below the white moon
I fumble for my keys, the motor fires

But no place is open to rest my bones



     An old cafe customer watches

Supervisors come and go, the good ones

and the bad, the kind and the cruel







     A solitary bird cries out
deep in the mountains

A man with imperfection strives
to find dry kindling, light a fire

The solitary bird survives

So must the man



     A very old woman
her back is bent, working
the register at Walmart—

The parking lot is empty

Grocery carts stand naked

in the artificial light












At the craft fair
deep in the mountains
No one selling anything
People walk around
visiting with others

Money forgotten


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