Hell’s Kitchen Express

bring us West

where hard blossoms grow

where moss

knows how to map the bodies

in old brick

bring us West

where pink sky fire

chases us

down paving stone streets

where a chosen few

are wise enough

to seek their peace

bring us West

where outlaw ghosts

still prowl,

where dreamers still stoop

to pick up change

and share a bottle

with strangers

Sailing the Blacktop Seas

up anchor

sailing asphalt oceans

to battle

succubus mind pirates

claiming our stake, inheritance

in the art of madness,

the beauty

of the burning drive

that turns the ruined

into noble saints

let us sink the ships

flying false flags

and leave treasure

on the salty shores

of dreamers 

Meteors

The brilliant ghost

of space poets

sparks of the poets’ gods

demanding tribute

to the great blue night

pleas for greatness

whispered in flash paper,

grapeshot launched

against nonbelievers of art

a screed of proofs

of the glory of the universe

treasure trove of trusted light

flint to fire a billion tender minds

—to send them careening

to the glory and madness of poetry

timed celestial beams

spelling our great secret lives

against the stars’ tapestry

in mysterious Mayan math

all of space and time

and its infinite secrets

forked out in white-hot code

for a poet to decipher accidentally

in a thousand years