Whatever moment ended the
age before our minds became
locked in incessant stimulation

Was it that time we sat on a sidewalk
in someone's neighborhood at midnight
smelling of coffee and dreams

There is no bottom left to kick out
no rebellion that has not been comercialized

VAGUE MEMORIES OF THUNDER

Her thirst
Broken Gods
Sacred River Pollution

Sputtering Chariots
Scent of midnight espresso
Smoking cubans on ancient
machines

The otherworldness
waking up with unknown
goddesses

Lady Slippers

I placed her ashes
gently in the sand,
amongst the pines
of the land
she held so dear

Right between
where two rare
orchids would bloom
in one week's time