Wednesday, May 31, 2017

May eve

crow calls from the roof
gloaming gleam off his coat
solar sink past the leaves
laying light on the lawn
iris velvet in the eve
poppy silks cross their legs
canine nose chases scents
tales of rabbits and their ghosts
neighbor's smoke drifts aloft
catches gold in the air
slumber thoughts rise in shadows
dreams whisper in the breeze
crow calls in taking flight
flying feathers of the night






Tuesday, May 30, 2017

Above cubes

the sky is tiled and stained
and spotted and torn
dust has turned to grime
in its crevices
and only segmented slabs
of lights peer through
a drab grid of aged clouds
these clouds have valves
to drizzle their rain
in case of fire or smoke
or someone too mischievous
and in an effort lost
someone else attempted
to hang cheer in the form
of a pastel pendant banner
across the skeleton of it all




Monday, May 29, 2017

Ticked off

scribble dribble
the ink draining pen
pain pinned in
pouring out the within
dripping time
the leaky faucet
draining the Pacific basin
in miserable gifts
of too many minutes
the grainy seconds
of Sahara sands
that engulf the ticking hands
prison keep keeps
heaping bodies on the bank
drowned in relentless tides
of boredom
bides



Friday, May 26, 2017

May dream

pale porcelain arms broke
leaping to them for shelter
and fell into wet depths below
among a fetid predatory scent
and gray and green and stones
the surface so far and wanted
to breech and breathe and bail
from the darker world below
with muted sounds and moves
scampering up the steep cliff
mounted with swaying grass
to sit and stall in the silence
in stirring smoke of a friend's pipe
and delving speculations of this





Thursday, May 25, 2017

Spill

it can all spill out
and the mystery is soiled
with knowledge
the beauty that comes
with sweet ignorance
becomes splattered with
the death of it all
what drains from
the basin of truth
and floods the thirsty
who drinks from the hose
coursing with enlightenment
only the fool who will
take another sip
and sip the drink again
never leaving a drop
in the cup to drip






Sunday, May 14, 2017

Capitulate

it was some vague conversation
with god last night
this one or that one
who knows whose god
it didn't give a name
so I didn't have to worry
about using it in vain
and such vanity
to think I would want to
but back to whatever was spoken
must have been about
a bacterial notion
the microbial sort which
seems to be the stitches
holding all the seams together
it must have been revealed
the primordial pool hasn't past
but is an eternal water park
built for someone's amusement
and only when we are handed a towel
and told it's time for the lifeguard's break
is when we abandon our rafts
to the ravenous currents
of the pool's cold depths
I like to think that's what
those two nuns wearing their habitual habits
were conversing about
in the grocery store near the yogurt the other day
but their language escaped me
and all I can do is surrender
to the idea that they were