High, on the hill—
fires of the rich:
ocher, salmon-red,
blue-purple,
while down below
magnetic Denver
burns in the rain.

Xenon, Krypton,
Argon—soul
of Neon—the optical
equivalent of jazz, glow
and pulse like coals
at the base of ash
where haltered women
roam like soldiers
on furlough

down corridors
of deepened hues,
punctuated by stabs
of light. Anklets,
pendants, magic bands—
young women are pretty,
'til monotony steals it.
Murder and lilac
in the wind

Volume 2, Issue 1, 2007