Andy Stallings

                    Philosophy: constantly
          a waver. If cheap or empty,
                    loved. My sky

                                   yellow, headlights
                    running the curb like small
                            animals, wet streets, hole
                                   in my shoe. What’s

          half-conceived along
                    the fading hum I covet,
          slim as glass tonight,
                    mimed by floodlights,
                            maimed by.

Untouchable reveling faces.

          Lives blur at night
                    as though song-edge.
                            As though permanent.

Posted 04/29/10