i am outside in the oven
chin ups and dips
and laps[e] in the grass

around the poured concrete
and picnic tables bolted down
with music in factory
ear buds playing loud
enough to drown
the chatter of fat, angry men

a conch shell emptysea-gifted
carried back to window sill
trapped voices now extinct still
in shifting sandsbreeze-lifted
sounds of surf on gentle winds
crashing pulselife’s quickened flash
mutes the tracks with ocean slash
silent ciphersexpunged suspend

Picture Rocks Canyon: Paisley
scarlet bandana caught on gray thornbush
sprouting from naked rock. Lavender-
blooming ironwood, swift
zebra-tailed lizards and always
the cactus wrens for company.

31 scorched—one week
before I went home
to London. I was lost.
7 years since I left
my childhood in England.
My father told me
to meet at King’s College,
I arrived at King’s Cross
6 miles away. Accosted
by roses, carnations, lilies,
a meadow of flowers

Sleepy baby, sleepy baby. Drift
away, with me. I’ll take you to
a place I know, it’s
called, the Dreamland Sea. It
lies beyond the moon, and
stars, among the silvery
skies. A splendid dream awaits you there, behind your tired
eyes. Sleepy baby, come
with me. We’ll sail, until
sunrise.

a starter home
with kitchen and bathrooms redone,
six percent down
an unlocked car
an affordable five-bedroom
in a neighborhood
with good schools
a crowded floor
in a stumbled-upon squat

Leaving Work
The shrubs are flush—branches scarlet
by the red brick dormitory.
Rolling past Hickory Hill park
leaves blaze into miniature suns.
At Home
In our backyard, the swing set is
as empty as a hollow gourd,