Landgulls

White trash-lovers,

Freaks for all they’re worth,

Anarchy in beady, brazen faces,

Seizing stares,

Standing ground.

Bland, gallus, gunslingers

Striding rooftops,

Gate-crashing dawn,

With punk rock squawks,

Claiming squatters’ rights

On stick legs, starfish feet.

Cold-calling meddlers,

Trawling inland,

Surfing the streets:

Scoping, probing, locating.

Beak-first gamblers,  

Spinning laziness into recycling.

Maybe a nuisance,

But never gullible.

first thing

dawn songs
strike and treat
your cares away,
first thoughts
stifled on a chirping scale
of octave-scent oxygen
wept through windows
worldwide,
as if to say
don't start your day
just listen
still and lay.