DAVID ALEXANDER

time's up

you left me gasping

for air

under pisces

then,

just to get off,

you broke the arms

of a sleeping beggar

with a slitted little head

-- like spinoza’s

only

longer

 

your uncertainties can’t sail above

an uncertain height

 

dripping wax they fall

against the scotched dumplings

beneath my hair

and are birds no longer

 

when those nipples get excited

you always betray

yourself

 

 

anyway,

 

you played the end game

and lost.

now fuck off

while I watch

my dick contracting

 

a joyful prince

by the sea,

robed in purple

 

 

 

from a highway overpass

 

1.

 

a drifting seed found purchase

in a hidden cleft of earth

thru the smallest crack in plates

of steel

between the concrete median

that splits the highway

into two equal if

opposite halves

no choice was made

it was the wind's caprice

that blew it there

 

2.

 

the roots sank down

life spun threads

that tightened

and clawed

then held

and grew

 

3.

 

this morning

in the blowtorch wind

of early traffic

in the cruel monoxide

of vehicle exhaust

the little tree is lashed

in the slipstream

of passing cars

leaves snarled back

to expose their 

tender undersides

to uncaring metal

 

every so often a lull

comes and the highway

grows quiet. but this lasts

only temporarily

 

then without warning

something roars

out of darkness

flashing and coming

into the light

like this

big red flatbed truck

hauling a load

of demolition rubble

to god knows where.

it makes the whole

bridge shake violently

as it bursts into view

and thunders

down the road

 

4

watching it pass i think

even if a wind as fierce as that

can only whip the tree around

and bend it out of shape

and even if nothing

on this highway

can ever uproot it

where can it possibly go

from here