unfettered Phil There is No Music From the Guitar Clothing soaked, after a light rain caused the shoring to give way. I turn their hands to see their faces, comfortably dreaming, tying laces. Listening to lives each had lived: homecooked meals, their work and kids. One Man Saw the Lightning Strike One man sat at a table He shouted as well as he was able He shouted for the world to know He shouted out beneath the glow He shouted as he was being hit He shouted again, after a bit Two stones across the sky skimming Two streamers across the sea swimming Two meteors shooting way up high In the pupils of his eyes When he shouted, he could not hear His voice, was not clear His shout had lost all its strength As it was, near him great His voice, seemed so weak His voice was not his voice So to speak In Another Life She told him, she was heading over. He would worry, he would hold her. She spilled neither pill nor drop, except the lipstick on her cup. A phone was found right beside her, slumped beneath the apple cider. Maybe They Hooked Up Wrapped in a cocoon of red hard cover, pinned by a side of water bed rubber, listening to her say life was changing, being his she was arranging. From the machine her voice was saying, the mini tape on the landline playing, dark lamp shade on a nightstand aging, next to him she would be staying. Everything Was Clean Before I Left I stand on the carpet of the master bath Topiaries beside the path A foot of water in the grave He stood staring back my way Both of us naked, sparks flying In this order: start, surge, and frying The rooms within were all cleared out Frayed wire upon the spout Towel thrown toward the sink Shut him off, fast as a blink Wind Chimes and Bottle Caps Speeding up toward Dead Man's Curve A whirlwind beyond the verge Carried trash some other way Stuck along the barricade Before the berm headlamps reveal An ominous column beyond the wheel We were driving with our best haste but could not keep up with the pace The wind died along the way His heart pumping above the waist Scuttled plans to breath that day She Needed One A fountain of husband above the bed His brother came home first instead Bottles were poured out on my head Her tub was filled with roses red Tears filled up his empty past A dead man's peers have the worst task We painted flowers on our skin On her green couch Breakfast with what Remained of him 240629 what's it to you? who go blather from