a thief in the day
I know tho that was
after the fact like
empty milk in 2
% gravity

I look into thin
spaces searching for
some weight somewhere, a
little less flimflam
and moving curtains

and missing glasses
I now know the front
door is a little
more civilized I
catch the air in each

ear finding my own
density, shoving
the ocean back in
to the conch dirty
red fingerprints are

exactly what we’re
after next to sex
and weed, like the pet
turtle’s scuta marks
the spot under teal

palm tree Lego land
umbrella, light low-
fat carton gripped in
my hand printed the
portrait of this world

Planks pitter patter
dance the Dervish pine runway
balls and holes as one

~~~~~~

Sup with me leaguers!
imbibe thy cold-sprung barley
sort us from the weak!

~~~~~~

Oh my filthy holes!
take thee flaming balls to task
grip thy trophy fast!

~~~~~~

Sing, Oh alley, sing!
let our legacy live on
each ball turned to blue

~~~~~~

Thy supported wrist
snow powdered gloved hand and ball
rearrange thy pins

~~~~~~

Kegler, hear the din!
as a bull we charge young lanes
full alley we rent

~~~~~~

America bowls!
today I return used balls
I give my shoes back

~~~~~~

Cold domestic beer
let today be paradise
summer rates are here!

~~~~~~

Semi-pro bowler!
let your handicap a’ shine!
be forever loud!

Faux cloisonné blushed enameled
blues and pinks stands a bunny dew.
And in that bunny dew
is a pied hide ibex of
dappled thunder grey and onyx
set with wide flat teeth in an
eggy oval.

And in that dappled ibex
sits a green thistle-perched frog
with gold scuba finned toes
even more webbed than his own
and covered in British green and toady,
with two long red stripes.

And within that British bullfrog
lay a sleeping princess in
Murakami pajamas—
the ones with multicolored monograms
in cyan, magenta, yellow
and green on a field
of asylum white—
just like her horse.

And nestled along with that
fashion-plate princess
is a little pocket watch dog
with great big long plum
and beige ears and little doggy
socks and shoes in sunny
orange and lime hues.

All of these sit unnested,
anesthetized and scattered
on the imaginary area rug
beneath the aviary bed
with loneliness so loud
you can feel the gravity.