pieces of Smith Rock

honey
lichen
missing neal
the boy wears no shirt
and i, no shoes
it's always felt better that way
the sun burns my legs
the wind owns my hair
this precipices fluorescence reflects the texture of my soul
plain trails through the baby blue
for moments i feel like falling in tune
but i'd much rather see those California cliffs
shear and dramatic...unforgiving
two flies fight or make love
the bird is a shooting star across this alien atmosphere
and i like the lichen,
cling still