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like the sun setting in the east
That is a sign of the last days
but not this
This is the ambulance passing again
and the bus going down the alley
It's when we come to the same place
Slipping back and back
squeezing through a small hole
Like after eat me drink me
only I get microscopic
A pigeon is frozen in gravel
Many dogs bark
the ambulance passes by again
my own small hole
it's a fantasy and it's a fantasy
spiral graffiti new pink paint
middle of the street is not an outside plant
house has on a yield sign
going downhill backwards your lane
bright blue building operating a table saw
philodendrons are on a two lane street
they have taken over while still there
watching me pass by the corner
over new pink paint
middle of the street is a yield sign
spiral graffiti on your lane
while house has a table saw operating
building going downhill over backwards
watching me pass by new pink paint
bright blue philodendrons are not over the corner
while still there still there
they have taken an outside plant on a two lane street
there over the corner
going downhill a table saw
middle of the street is operating graffiti
spiral me backwards on a two lane street
pass by while over new pink paint
building philodendrons are not watching your lane
they have taken on an outside plant
still the bright blue corner house has a yield sign
Khadija Anderson, Poet and Butoh dancer, returned last year to her native Los Angeles after eighteen years exile in Seattle. Khadija's poetry has been published in print in The Ursa Major Poets Anthology, The Ticket, and The Ark Magazine, and online in Unfettered Verse, Washington Poets Association's online whispers & [Shouts], CommonLine Project, Here & Now, Gazoobitales and Qarrtsiluni. She has been a featured reader numerous times in Seattle, and now lives in Altadena with people she loves and the mountains to gaze at. Qarrtsiluni nominated her for a Pushcart Prize.