The old bones of this house
settled around my feet, called me home.
In this far from where I grew up place,
I have discovered an architecture.
The pace of humidity, a steel life of stubbled paths,
a down-town cadence of misty blues & earthy hums.
A city absorbent enough to hold a fall.
After floods, tremors & shipwrecks
a town gets up.
Art is the resurrection.
Chilled-out on sidewalks, cafes & abandoned space.
Beautifying walls into doorways of painted light,
the murals of a sea.
Verses passed around like joints
blowing us into bars, eyes stung with listening.
The crates of a past
stacked in loose arrangement
to let in the air.