Alba

Here there is no accompaniment
A wheel has rusted a fist to the wind

I take down my stone name
and finally put it in a chalky drawer

Its trees are all on fire
but only at the very tops

Fire will not come down the ladder again

A fog rests on the empty lush field

The green feeling is of      a chance without a chancer

[bob]

bob sits in a chinese restaurant’s lobby
does some headspins
gets a horoscope done
plays a first person karate video game
hears someone play a violin
kale arrives, more people
winter capes are shaking out flakes
bob is confused
animals are worn on shoulders
bob is new here

bob examines the chinese buffet
food is held in plastic buckets
humans are very strange
chinese food resembles horoscopes
kale arrives, more people
winter capes are left in booths
bob is caught eating one
everyone is confused

bob is new here
there are screams
bob does some headspins

Brancusi

An oval in moonlight
sought out by a flashlight
but a flicker of the instant
mind like ethereal coffee
made from crystals
stirred in a cup

A woman’s bladed question
on the granite table
next to a marble face
oval of the pale head
It is an afterlife of the mind
a gift of ourselves given everywhere,
a flash of ourselves in stone

Smooth that it have an animal smoothness to the mind