DHC Transfer Corps poems

for Jordan
he's slick as a streetcorner in a
rainsuit he's got a cart full of
breaking birds thrusting featherfluff against
thin string
bars, he's got a cart full of
streetsweeper songs the grinning
nightlife residue of
streetlife, scrapes itself up and
throws itself into his cart
of flower overflow

for Dylan
fire and drums and the pinesap crackling
yea you probably run naked in the woods sometimes
screaming scrimshaw onto bark
maybe along shale crisps that trickle whisper
to the mountain base:
until, lungsore, you
grow like the madrone tree
slow
and skin snapping red
into green

for Jessica
I think you're made of flowers
made of brass
glinting I bet you smell like
powdery blue,
hedges,
and hammered steel.

for Michael
twitch and tumbling the round rocked
river and bullfrogs
carrying gnatclouds in their bellies,
the dabbing mud.
when you were a tadpole
did you ever swim merrier than
the water creek
the downpulling
and the spin?