no
switch
gas burner
in a basement
steam engine fires up
ancient geyser hot springs
sulfur pots with rusted algae.
Newsprint crumples, opens,
thin dead branches that once
held deciduous leaves of ash,
but mine have the cancer from
burning the spores fly into stars,
embeding themselves into beetles
brown disease that plague forest
Where's the girl scout fire building
lighter fluid
chemical cancer?
Tolene
encaustic painter
mixed dry pigments
lead
poison
is a
bitch
I slept in a loft on
Industrial Street above
railroad ties where men
huddled in blue plastic condos.
When they die of cold exposure,
lost dollars they gathered begging
on freeway off ramps on
Popov vodka and crank.
Mayor plans to build
forty houses at
four hundred thousand per unit.
Reporters herald the plan.
What of the other eleven thousand
on the street?
Luxury construction costs,
I do for a living.
Why does no one question the price?
Crescent moon cup waits for rain
she's the yin to the mountain
below he turns the other way
I'm afraid to go out
the bolted
door at night
even if I'm out of firewood
plan ahead or use down comforters
layer many over in case
when bad guys
come they
cannot shoot
through the
padding
Aspen trees are a grove of one
connected like railroad ties.
Caroline Gerardo © Aspen Poem
