The Entourage

They moved through sepia

thoughtless, but thoughtful

enough to regard each other.

The brown world was like gravy,

a reminder of the taste

of something good.

Out ahead of them the

black and whiteness

moved toward them.

Overhead, sound moved

silently, encrypted.

They had begun to

receive the invisible.

The Entourage confessed to no one

in particular, they did not care

how this was happening.

Desire spread, inflamed by color.

Investigations were made.

They would get back to everyone.

Still it came on, looking more

and more like the surface of water,

the turbulence making sense.

I was washing the windows

when I noticed the tiniest of

dry insects caught in the screens.

Across the room was another screen.

The Entourage moved across it

In the lead she carried

a rhinestone briefcase.

The Contraceptive Bird

It was blue like a bunting

and it fit the pattern

of a dream.

Color let loose

looking a lot  like

a bird.

But this dream

switched things

I was used to.

The eggs were leaf green.

Not laid,

formed by the

space around them.

Pressure and a reliance

on color.

Small weather came up

around the eggs,

coaxing them open.

Inside, what I could not see

emerged and flew to

the sky's blue hand.

I remember

it looked

a lot like a bird.

ROMNEY TAKES THE OFFENSIVE AGAIN!

Republican Presidential hopelessful, Mitt Romney, today said that the Obama administration has hurt any chances the Chicago Cubs may have to reach the playoffs by not providing them with a portfolio of runs. "Times are tough", said Romney, "and I understand people's desire for insurance, for peace of mind." Romney failed to provide an answer as to just how this administration would provide insurance runs for a major league baseball team. "You'll have to take that up with Mr Obama," smiled the Republican's all but certain nominee.

Surrender

It will never be safe, the

coming out of this hole,

this body. Everything in

this world is this body. Smell

what we have made. The rest

seeks audience with us. The

hornet looks for love along my

arm. The sun smiles down on me.

But really the yellow jacket just

senses water and the Great

Orb has another appointment.

This body is not central-

light and water swirled into

a labeled labyrinth.

Check the seating chart.

Press the new foot.

The body begins as one

language reaching for its

bilingual nature, searching

for a translation, longing

for a translator.

The wonder of this body is:

when you clap one hand a

light goes on, two, it goes off.