Pleased with pistachios

 he sits eating tree oysters

remembering the time

his mother would fill

a small glass vendor 

with a black cast iron leg

and red jacket and cap

from his first memories

she would always choose

the same hard tan beaks

with their jade green innards

to top off the glass tank

not very appealing to

his delinquent mind and wants

he much rather had had 

chocolate covered in vibrant

thin candy shells or the

same vibrancy in gumballs

but alas the mechanical thing

was diminished in his mind

due to these things he snacks on

these things that fill his break

with their tiny snaps of their jaws

revealing the gems within

though empty with some

leaving him feeling cheated

but still pleased with pistachios

Bloomfield

 I watched the marble

as it slowly rolled along

all the lines of your heart

the whiskey kissed words

that dribbled from your lips

might have been my 

preferred poison

but you set me adrift

in a sea

inside your glass

and I had no idea

how to tread 

there was such sweet release

in giving into those words

in breathing in that liquid

in sinking to the bottom 

of your chasm

the dark pit of you

I would gladly

douse with kerosene

and strike a match

Tristful dream

 the orchard was fully fruited

but once picked 

the peaches quickly rotted

the rot we drink

and are drunk on

and it keeps our eyes shut

doors to the heart and

windows to the soul

blanketed in ice cold

a bitter kiss of lovers

lost or family feuds or

strangers traveling through

the beds we seek comfort

in sleep or sex

or naps lapping our lives

licking away the days

left on these shores

waiting to be eaten by the sea

 

Pooled

 the chlorine aroma mingled

with heavy coconut tropical scents

of tanning oils and sunblock

and further was a wave of fruity taffies,

sugary powders and chocolate bars

even the wet hot pavement emitted

its own odor into the whole mix

the whole mix that only existed

in this sun bleached biosphere

of the summer public pool

where it seemed to erase boundaries

that once kept certain children

away from other certain children

whether it be age, class, or other

none of that seemed to matter 

in the cool, chemically treated waves

lifeguards and swim team coaches

headed up this family of the wet

and the major goal throughout all

the generations that had swam

throughout the many summers

is to graduate from the kiddie "puddle"

to the, gulp, taller than a giraffe high dive

and everyone mourned when new regulations

were the death of that fearful feat

for the mysterious depths of the deep end

were mysteriously no longer deep enough

who knew a concrete bowl filled in

with what everyone is teeming with already

would wash away the masks we otherwise would wear

Spring burn

 such a strange Spring

the tulips hold blood on their lips

while robins and larks cry murder

in the evenings the cold folds it hands

to pray throughout the night

the trees open their arms

to litter the streets with pleas

petitions to the far off sun

to burn away this old and

so very renewed injustice

the bare twigs are whipped by the winds

in hope that it will awaken

the sleeping mass with their feet in the ground

their pale oblivion keeps them numb

still so very chilled 

still so very untouched

still so very disconnected from the sun

ready to burn it all away

but the winter white will melt

and the rains will wash 

away those ashes

Scratch

 the scratching on the skin

some hungry searching hen

kicking up dust 

to the disgust

of those around

laying on the ground

they wonder why 

just can't let it lie

but it's when you dig deep

now that's something worth to keep

don't want to just eat worms

need something more than those squirms

something to feed the soul

that's why you dig the hole

that's why you pierce the earth

working from death to birth

to reach

to beseech

to anger the gods' wrath

asking for a blood bath

wrapped up in this life's words

just to scatter in a flock of birds

in your desire and lust

just to be something more than dust

 

Windowed

 his mind is very successful

in making memories more

than what they ever could have been

making those memories into fuel

to feed a wild fire within his heart

with burning crimson coals still to this day

he stares at the window as if it is

the fated one he lost to time

as if he could reach out and take that hand

in his own and feel the warm blood 

running through veins instead of

smooth stark cold glass encasing the gray sky

he hears the rain tapping on those panes

as the voice he longs to listen to

a breath whispered beside his ear

releasing all that was tangled inside

all that caused the great fall into the abyss

and pale feet walking into the dark

he would have gladly listened, gave anything

to listen to those words to take it all away

but there again his memories are more

than what they ever could have been

and the touch of the cold glass and

tapping rain's voice will have to suffice

Phantom pains

it's a turning under the navel

a slight jitter within the sphinx moth cocoon

their cold hands grasp onto your shoulders

always trying to hold what they can't

trying to feel something the wind

has swept away 

those letters of all those words

scattered on a breeze and cast into the blanket of night

but they still linger by sides

chilly breaths turning up hairs on necks

slight movements of their favorite things

sudden glances in reflections

moments caught over the shoulder

in the corners of eyes

where the tears collect and fall

for all the spring showers they danced in

escaping under towels and arms

where secrets whispered into eager ears

the same ears now perked to shutter

at the very same whispers

for all flowers fade

all petals fall

no blossom ever blooms again