Solitude

At Dusk:
I, and a park,
bench sit beneath the sky.
Orange freckles throughout thin clouds.
Spider-

like webs
slice the sun in-
to puzzle pieces. Moist
secrets whisper to the ground. Green
dust comes

to life,
burning candles.
The sea rolls sand like dice.
A beach bridge swings at its shadow.
The dark

moon eyes
the solar disk
then pockets it. The sea
now, black and blind, calls out to me.
I go.

Masterpieces

Black ink
drips from my hair.
I wonder if he knows,
from time to time, I hide inside
his poems?

Homesick

Pour me
across ancient
African soil like wine
spilled from an Ethiopian
chalice.