Within walls

within the walls

bides eternity

where the witch

knows how to walk

through and into

the endless time

within the walls

within the walls

cries infinite

where waits the

witch in golden flesh

and darkly dress

of those shadows

within the walls

within the walls

lays serenity

where the witch

holds candle flame

and gently whispers

out your name

within the walls

Star dust

the dust has turned

to stars

in the stagnant cells of

the ceiling

the subtle brilliance goes

unseen

by those who keep their

noses

to the constant turn of

the grindstone

they only catch the eyes

of those

who turn their noses up

to work

and gaze into the micro

cosmic glow

Peacock twins

audacious solar peacock

arising in the morning

to fan tail feathers

across the heavens

in hues of the hearth

a brazen blazing flash

into the once sullen

serenity of the dark

he withdraws his

amber glow flowery

show and tosses his

luminous crown through

the blue celestial sea

where it's caught by

his twin waiting in

all his pretentious glory

The barrel

he lives in a barrel

the barrel most foul

emptied of spirits

to make you crow and to howl

the wood of the barrel

has drunk it all dry

at least that's his claim

he speaketh a lie

his liver gave notice

and told him good bye

he sits in his wasting

and wonders to himself why

"I've lived when I fancied

didn't fancy a lot

I worked for a living

and a living I sought

but happy is fleeting

its lasting all for naught

what good is working

if from it life can't be bought?"

he lives in a barrel

the barrel most foul

emptied of his spirit

no crowing, not a howl

it lays in the bottom

of a six feet deep hole

the barrel took his body

yet the spirits took his soul

Of shadows

in the shadows
of the forests

I plant my feet

in hope they

grow like roots

to travel the

underground

the dark damp

where worms

feed and rock

melts in water

and in time

in the shadows

of the crowds

I raise my arms

in hope they

grow like trees

to see above

those around

the hollow mass

where worms

feed and souls

melt in boredom

and in time

Luna

she waited around

this morning

perhaps for a lover

that never showed up

perhaps for someone

worth waiting for

I longed to see her

for whom she was

but all I could ask

myself was is she

half empty or half full

Oh brother

oh brother

you're poor

your debt

is the blood

shed on

foreign shores

and the bodies

in your backyard

you don't see

anymore

or choose to ignore

oh brother

you're not

so big

for the bigger man

would have

done more

yet you're poor

not noticing

the holes in

the pockets

of your soul

loosing all

your change

to one step forward

three steps back

oh brother

don't bother

why start now

you're locked in

those irons

of the machine

printing your cash

with deaths

of your people

red on the green

just in time

for your

Christmas card

Office balloons

these tethered stars

bounce in the HVAC

currents, casting shade

from fluorescent suns

a once bold metallic

foil plump with new

inflation now sags

as helium dreams seep

through the ether

these tethered deflating

dreams sway above

their dreamers in

their cubic cells

Cooled coffee

there's a temperature

that coffee reaches

when I can only taste

the flavor of large

dandelion leaves

that are full of bitter

chlorophyll and minerals

of course my tongue

would have simply

thought of the flavor

at that temperature

as merely cooled coffee

if it had never had

that little spring herb

mingle with its buds

Eat up

this modern diet

has something to be desired

so much indigestion

is obvious from what

spills on to social media feeds

yet our minds follow suit

to our stomachs growling

for the chemical laced

temporarily satisfying

and of the utmost convenience

ground up whatever

between two sesame seed buns

and our minds

eagerly munch on all

salacious rumors

scandalous behavior

and outrageous insults

that are hurled

in this summer camp

food fight that was

started by whom?

Of lost marbles

of lost marbles

that wash ashore

on rain swept ditches

of barren dirt roads

landlocked pearls among

the tiny glimmers

of broken glass and

smaller yet the shine

of grains of sands

washed away

the smaller yet

broken body of the earth

the dusty silt

pouring downhill into

creeks and rivers and tides

of lost marbles

collecting near nails

and other bits of rusty

fragments, teeth of the past

reveal their smile

in the ditches

of barren dirt roads

Waking eyes

I'm sure there were

landscapes of grandeur

and gardens of splendor

and exotic flora colored

in hues too vivid for

waking eyes

I'm sure there were

mansions of loftiness

and costumes of luxuriousness

and characters dressed

in personas too legendary

for waking eyes

I'm sure there were
stories of desire

and dialogues of fire

and moments saturated

in emotions too rich

for waking eyes

yet I will never know for sure

as my dog re-situated

his place at my feet on the bed

When geese were seen as rats

knew the road was wet

no obvious puddles

but the untrodden dirt

was dark with wet

the truck didn't care

and had no mind to stop

and the smooth road

was soon ruins

with ruts

swirling next to

fine green hairs

of the wheat field

in April

the geese hissed

at the disturbance

in passing

flapping and scuttling

until resolved to

nip at the green hairs

once again

their abundance was noted

doing too well

for themselves

like rats

In the cup

looking into my cup

of coffee this morning

reminds me of when

I, with my siblings

at a very early age,

stared into the abyss

of the world's largest

hand dug well

hoping we wouldn't

meet the same fate

of that baby that

was on television

this dark liquid with

its dark reflection

staring back at me

in its trepidation

for the next words

to spill from my mouth

for those drops the

color of abandoned

beer bottles to somehow

make it all go better

Sweet dreams

all those flirts in dreams

whose lives seem more

than the fleeting moments

they exist within

do they change their skins

after each performance

is the alarm clock

their falling curtain

are they the same actors

each and every night

simply with a different script

their words grow gray

as the sun moves through the day

but are the sweetest grapes

on their vines that twine through night

Falling

he felt himself falling through an abyss

as he sat and waited

these tugs had tugged on him

since he could remember

most noticeable when sitting

having little else at his attention

often after the tug

a feeling of lightness followed

and tarried for a bit

serving the ebb to the flow

yet this rule to the game

was broken this time

the abysmal descent continued

after a few seconds

turning the tug into a snare

and free-fall into fright

had these tugs before

been a gentle nudge

from the great severer itself

had they all been whispers

of the inescapable

and was this the moment

the slight slips would empty into

the final collapse of the soul

NO-vember

I'm saying no to November

no to the over eating

of hypocritical gratitude

no to judgmental dinners

with disapproving indigestion

no to the dismal days

tunneling their way

to even shorter, darker days

no to the beastly purchases

destined for some dusty closet shelf

and then the trash

I'm saying no this month

no to the first icy streets

when drivers forget how to

no to those first icy sheets

that pull your feet out from under you

no to lamenting the green

while snuggling up to the gray

no to you November

scram, piss off, GO AWAY!

Pent-up serpent

nervous spasm

his thumb twitching

pulling to his palm

as he waits behind the wheel

a serpent lying in wait

in the coils of his gut

hisses whisper

in the exhaust of the truck

a paper plan

sticks to his brain

a paper plan

that could be torn up

and thrown away

as the truck idles

with the serpent