Golden Gate

Berlin Poems : Sitting in the rare sun outside LPG bio Mart grocery store wondering if this bottle of red Zinfandel that i found on the curb is a poem ….also while Feeling homesick for California. Red rose Zinfandel on the the curb, By Jedidiah Jackson I was parking my bike so I picked it up the color was the Same as my ppp this morning It’s very pretty red. Oh, and pretty scary in the toilet bowlIs this a poem? I am ok I was eating beets last night,is a meal a poem ?Cooling in steam, Slicing mozzarella, miniature corn, raviolis, folded over something delicious 24 torsos pinched together first and second chakra Chi Life is poem Balancing the moon with the size of the sun, a woman named Leslie in Copenhagen 1930 opens an atom Spinning orbits, and having gracetechnically, life is also the underside of every pigeons wing flapping flying for its lifeAs the fox is sprinting for it’s mealThe poem is pervasiveYet the poetry section trends to suckwalking with my hands behind my back doesn’t make me a pigeon Holding a half empty bottle of rose Zinfandel from the California Golden gate in a cold in Berlin sunny day is not really a poem The glass touching condensation is a poemThe light through the rose of course is poeticWe all know a caterpillar meta-Morphis sizesThe poem is that Becoming decay, changing radiating ultra pure, tarnished, shadow sulfur inhale Exhale Office chair, posturepedicure alignmentWhen does an email become a poem?This poem becomes when there are no more questions, and it’s just a through line every atom connected to the center of the javelin beast jowls like a rooster mohawk to poisonous berries, winter colors dark red the wine is lighter with the sun, still cold on a Monday someone was drinking modestly Sunday night