Hint Of Humidity

I zipped my zipper
in a cold Spring wind
(I’m sure you understand why).

Nature doesn’t have call waiting, or
a button to place on hold.

I checked for tracks
on the landscape of my legs,
no trace of the legacy of age.

Gray Cold Cloud

I crawled into the stomach
of a gray cold cloud
hiding from the fire-grip talons of day.

I rode bareback on a worm
through gauzy veils of flash-back memories;
not so good, not too bad.

I wrote anecdotes on naked roots
of roadside flowers, billboards,
for the dirt-blind eyes of sniffing sneaks.

I wished in the well
of a dromedary king, all
in the stomach of a gray cold cloud.


Authors note:
I promise I'm not stoned, tripped-out, or stumbling drunk through the labyrinth of insanity. Of course, you may see it otherwise.