i Poet.com and The Homeless Poets' Cafe

Moon burn on an April night,

Changing into May day flight,

Landfill changing into a time zone, white bone.

The Hold Out? There the ocean gives them no rest,

I only hope for the best.

I kept this place, betting to end a race, beating time.

The flowers are blooming,

Birds are singing near,

But I see a time zone coming,

On a full moon night?

Ghosts hide in bushes,

Delighted at following the silvery haze of the moon's flight.

By day the sun shines a blue clarity as in no other place,

For the time zone keeps coming flashing closer.

The ocean knows somehow

So as all things here.

Even the residents are unsure,

Their ears tied to the ground.

For five and one half years,

I've spent here,

Watching the seasons come and go

But this time I want it real slow.

Landfill fleet, here we go.

I'm sorry, not crazy.