same kingdom, new species

"las aves delgades del aire, / las dirreciones de la dicha."
"they are the slim birds of the air, / the directions of joy."
From "El desnudo" by Pablo Neruda.

they are the destroyers of airplanes, the builders of forests,
aptitude of the atmosphere and flyweights of feathers
patted down and tucked under the shoulder.
nothing so contaminating, eventful, scavenging,
or random in joy or space. same kingdom, new species.

in the wettest part of the jungle, in the oldest ruins
of mankind, are the warm wing flashes for a berry.
nothing so fresh! like an oriole in the crumbling downtown,
fishing for red brick crumbs. a bath of french fries
on the patio and the world's a gum wrapper.

and the nine percent chance I'll make my mind into
a bird is enough to drive the flock away. in the dust
a cartoon puff of plumes before the beaks settle down.
joy is cohesion and the explosion of tiny, hollow bones
that are perfectly random.

welcome, valentine, to the personal ads

welcome, valentine, to the personal ads. I think you'll sleep
in those human flea market columns tonight,
but I envy you still.

the men in the bar drink while they sing, I think that's fine.
and quiet girls sit home writing love letters
to boys they haven't met.

that's a table of empty coronas and a shelf of journals
if you're keeping score. here I do my best
to hedge my bets.

Don't fold up faster than the tide

Don't fold up faster than the tide when it snows. You are brown!
All silk scarf and the sofa's warm end. I have a plan for your life
just like the woman who walked past
and you laughed.

Is that your sister across the green door from us?
Well, why not? She hasn't taken her weather gear off yet, but
her coffee is open on the top.  Oh, hey barista!
Yes I'd like another.

Old man zigzag with two white ice cream
cone beards says peace to us. And peace is my car battery
and the engine's grr purr.  Warm pavement
means slush and sunshine.

I'm setting the stage for a one act novella opera haiku
and you're the star, woman.  And you're the Star Woman!
Build me a magazine and I'll fly it for you, columns on bourbon
pics of colours.

Two cups of joe and I've got a harebrained avalanche of Yes!
Thank you, calendar girl, I'll bet you have a sister or two
in the ink past of January.  Can I take a gray blob eraser
over last week too?

Understand this, mon amie, I don't speak French and the
red light is more than I can bear.  Every person I know is
dangling from a mobile next to the chandelier.  All my kingdom
for February 5th.