Mudpie

trickling over cracked earth
tiny courses of liquid
in grasping-hand fashion
dampen and darken dust

earthen lips wait agape
after anticipating the influx
of gratifying flow
on dampened darkened dust

pure clarity adulterates
with grounded perceptions
as the liquid itself
darkens in dampened dust

concepts float momentarily
suspended in the flood
and soon find bedded wombs
in darkened dampened dust

thoughts germinate swiftly
and raise from the storm-brewed
chaos and its effects
in dampened darkened dust

thoughts bellow out
throw off dried out husks
and seek anew from being
in darkened dampened dust

hybrids are sprung from
loins incited in juice
poured out by gods onto
dampened darkened dust

'tis nectar that moves in
and through the solids
for a brief moment
in darkened dampened dust

'tis nectar that changes
the fallible forms forever
in the inevitable path
of dampened darkened dust

Jargon jaunting: part left bereft

Low Men know then
ways of a hazy daze
spilling from frontal lobes
spoiling numb fungal probes

Low Men partake of these
slow kin forsake love...

geez

know when Low Men
your steps lead astray
and lore reps speed away

blind led by eyeless creatures

mind fed by pious preachers

know then Low Men
shrunken pails of drunken veils
are no trade, although paid,
for eluding tears or brooding fears

unable to relieve the pain
unstable, you bereave a vein
forfeiture, your shit cure...

as blood will flow
so Low Men know

Within the ribs

a barren sea swells
inside the contour cage

pale grey bars withhold
the burning dancer
in his dismal cell

his inflamed steps
skip across the roaring waves

a stone skipped many years ago
that ambles on its path
along the tips of lapping liquid

dancer dares not to escape
dares not to scorch his
flame drenched skin on the cage

hollow bones of the
fallen messenger bar his flight

engulfed in ruined desires
he can only flow to and fro
to appease the gluttonous fires

sighs exhale upon the heated stage
fanning the fame

in the dancer's mind does he see
the steps laying behind
his fear-inspired course

in the dancer's mind does he hear
the tears that tap upon
his soul's window...

pain, an overstayed companion
he has yet to bid farewell to

burn, ignited in a chance
gone feral from best intent
he dances in the contour cage

Scenes from the Blue Garden: part 4

Mirrored

in his eyes I am found
he is my looking glass

fingers to softly caress
the outstretched image
laying before my eyes

in this dreamy reality
only a pinch can tell

the steady drumming
of his chest lures me
away to soothing rest

where does his body end
where does mine begin

suspended in bodies
not reflecting the
mirror's sweet serenade

our dance glides on
silvery glass memories

flight from the axe
released from bodice
in all these remedies

regrets fall as leaves
from October trees

divination has now
passed before the
windows of our soul

partial sight has given
way to beloved whole

Afterwords

folded at the foot of the bed
lover lies relinquished of thought

simply a draped effect
of the exuberance that
shortly before was the
ebb and flow on a heated shore

liquid body melts into the
deluge of sheets coursing to the floor

gathering there in pools
of adrenaline and lust
that bleed from lover's
glazed eyes and euphoric passing

vacant temple briefly rests
on drifting weightless shoulders

anchor to such a vessel
slowly skims along
pores and drops of sweat
with drowsy stumbling fingertips

folded at the foot of the bed
lover lies in pulsing pleasure echoes

tones of voice and
catch of breath sweep
over the exposed plain
in a rolling ocean of surrender

Jargon-jaunting: part windy-fall

rustling from the bustling
early hurly-burly gust,
chasing leaves under eaves

the first dispersed burst on this
wonderful windy-fall day

in the gust, Autumn thrust
past drooping ripe fruits
and looping-type roots

wheezing breezy trees on this
wonderful windy-fall day

hint of Jack's nip
on blushing rose hip
tint of chilled cheeks
in only a few weeks

caught wind of
the thinned glove on this
wonderful windy-fall day

falls the seed, stalls the breed
return in a warmer season
and discern from a former treason
after rest enticed, undressed in ice

mere think-exhaust
of nearing frost on this
wonderful windy-fall day

River of Delivery

draped before first inhale
in lustrous apparitions
dripping in the hollows
of creation's chasms

internal echoes of the
physical form fighting
recognized realities and
forgotten fundamentals

eager eyes cringe at
first sight, nocturnal
wanderers reacting
to dawn's first light

sensations absorb
under newly fallen
snow of skin, warmth
repeats in heart beats

worlds breached in
the vacating of womb
where we were once
one with eternity

suspension of lot
released, lives are
poured out, patented
and positioned by fate

pain-delivered life
begins in wailing
ending the same
for those left behind

in the physical flesh
formed by the incarnate
whole, identifying with
infinite fades from view

Scenes from the Blue Garden: part 3

 

Sept ember

bright fleur rests
in evening still
from breezy daze

hue nears the
harsh threat
of tiny daggers
clinging to stem

nears harsh
in the calm
dingy gloaming

it's held high
and away from
its fruited fellows...

those dull orange
hips which shifted
to and fro in
the prior gusts

bright fleur comes
late for the show...

such a gay fellow