poetry

Orange Country

it seems you got your wish.
no june bugs left to bother you.

their crusted bodies
dissipate, spreading like spice

across the earth.
spice in the dirt.

spice in your hair.
the remnants that circle

in galactic dance,
onward towards andromeda.

i dare you to look to the sky –
that jaw-dropping sunset

every single night.
if you strain your eyes,

you might see mars
and venus. stargaze on the hills

to escape the rising sea.
where can i go

to watch my city
burn – the clementine fields –

the amber-dust beach –
mandarins crystalizing

between my teeth.
i grew up

where birds had voices –
where they sang

all through the day
and all through the night

and never took no for an answer.
migrating geese

battled ducks to the death. 
the trees prepared for winter – 

the sky, a gentle blue –
birds with purple eyes

if that is what you’d like.

poetry, Uncategorized

family dinner

longer than usual.
debris on 680.

once parts of vehicles.
once parts of people. part

of traffic now. stopped.
silent. earbuds going in.

windows up. northern california
daydream. sunburnt hills.

powerline miles
keep the lights on.

only a spark.
so what of a spark.

camp. kincade.
aqi: 225. stay inside.

stay inside. like smoking
as many packs

as we already do. home
is where the heat is.

seated adjacent
to rubble. seated 

adjacent to love.
stones for the chairs.

all that remain
of ashen remains.

eyeing across
at each other

eating something like
family dinner. 

broken china
has to do. 

should probably
be inside. sure.

if there was
an inside. 

meat too tough.
too long in the smoker.

speak in explosions.
only a spark. no more

power here.
hills too bright. 

forks clinking.
dusk falling. now

we know better
than to keep the lights on.