there were nights when we
were smashed off Pluto
and tipped our brims to
lights stretched across our skins
we were not to spill
and were not to hold
what was passing through
the age and blood
and lights and piss
were sweat and tears
and endlessness
and there drenched
in perspiration we danced
on Pluto's orb
it was a land of
which scholars told to
toast and boast in
the night divine
but faded now is
such gratitude for duty
paid and played at the edge
seems our kisses and touches
and many time collisions
disappeared into the dark
and faded from solar view
Monday, December 8, 2014
Sunday, December 7, 2014
The boy from Sasnak
In Sasnak, what's meant
to be forward is backward
and what's meant to be up
is altogether upside down
and round is square
where sharp is soft, the softest
folks with bluntest pokes
yet of these members
where scarce the timbers
was a boy, a young man in fact
who was born not shattered
but instead all intact
he knew the why
of the sky turning dark
and to light again
he knew the who
behind the tricks that
blinded both beast and men
he knew the how
in dreaming dreams to
make the future then
and for the time his
own life shall cease, alas
he knew the when
In Sasnak, what's meant
to be gone still lingers there
and what's meant to be still
is nowhere to be found
and the round that's square
blends together with the air
on a blank endless plain
yet though one there moves
but hasn't moved at all
the boy has seen beyond his
nose and further yet, beyond
where the wind blows
he knows the why
for giant skies to loom
over those below
he knows the who
discontent with rain,
or drought, or even snow
he knows how
to make his dreams
exist without an end
and for the time his
own heart shall break, alas
he knows the when
In Sasnak, what's meant
to be close is very far away
and what's meant to be miles
will always instead surround
and the round, albeit square
is here and there and anywhere
but nowhere and everywhere
yet distinct are its members
living where scarce are the timbers
and the boy, who has left them all
and has answered the wind
and its endless call
he forgets the why
of the blue sky that burns
from October to December
he forgets the who
of once he knew and
wishes he could remember
he forgets the how
a dream can grow far
beyond where he's been
and for the time his
own voice shall hush, alas
he forgets the when
to be forward is backward
and what's meant to be up
is altogether upside down
and round is square
where sharp is soft, the softest
folks with bluntest pokes
yet of these members
where scarce the timbers
was a boy, a young man in fact
who was born not shattered
but instead all intact
he knew the why
of the sky turning dark
and to light again
he knew the who
behind the tricks that
blinded both beast and men
he knew the how
in dreaming dreams to
make the future then
and for the time his
own life shall cease, alas
he knew the when
In Sasnak, what's meant
to be gone still lingers there
and what's meant to be still
is nowhere to be found
and the round that's square
blends together with the air
on a blank endless plain
yet though one there moves
but hasn't moved at all
the boy has seen beyond his
nose and further yet, beyond
where the wind blows
he knows the why
for giant skies to loom
over those below
he knows the who
discontent with rain,
or drought, or even snow
he knows how
to make his dreams
exist without an end
and for the time his
own heart shall break, alas
he knows the when
In Sasnak, what's meant
to be close is very far away
and what's meant to be miles
will always instead surround
and the round, albeit square
is here and there and anywhere
but nowhere and everywhere
yet distinct are its members
living where scarce are the timbers
and the boy, who has left them all
and has answered the wind
and its endless call
he forgets the why
of the blue sky that burns
from October to December
he forgets the who
of once he knew and
wishes he could remember
he forgets the how
a dream can grow far
beyond where he's been
and for the time his
own voice shall hush, alas
he forgets the when
Sunday, November 16, 2014
We were bees
In slumber rest the glossy wings are still
when tiny buzzing yields to winter's cruel chill
and fills with dreams of feasts of flowers
while sleeping and slipping away the frozen hours
The revels of dewy petaled morning glories
stream through the golden striped pollen stories
to tip and sip of the sticky pistil chalice
while humbly abiding in the silky floral palace
The warmth of these, the faded golden days
preserve the dormant hope under thick icy glaze
when the sun slowly thaws and melts away from these
it is simple to recall the time spent when we were bees
Saturday, October 25, 2014
Jargon jaunting: part Chopin
chopping Chopin flip flops
dropping, fry pan, sizzle... pops
beat one, two, three
sing doe, rae... it's me
thus see the dry
musty sea of rye
o'er plains where rains
more drains e'er stains
in delta laps poison relapse
the glades fallen on blades
slather of slithering
boorish come withering
swallowing gator smiles
hollowing later miles
of time dis-time
miming the climb
priming the crime
wearing rare ring
daring, dare... ding
the ting, this thing
here and now,
crying sow,
in that habitat
cat needs rat
tit for tat combat
fry pan sizzles... pop
Chopin drizzles... stop
dropping, fry pan, sizzle... pops
beat one, two, three
sing doe, rae... it's me
thus see the dry
musty sea of rye
o'er plains where rains
more drains e'er stains
in delta laps poison relapse
the glades fallen on blades
slather of slithering
boorish come withering
swallowing gator smiles
hollowing later miles
of time dis-time
miming the climb
priming the crime
wearing rare ring
daring, dare... ding
the ting, this thing
here and now,
crying sow,
in that habitat
cat needs rat
tit for tat combat
fry pan sizzles... pop
Chopin drizzles... stop
Sunday, October 12, 2014
Autumn
she has shown her face
in early shallow mirrors
those crisp layered shells
to shatter under a nudge
she has loathed the youth
in vibrant tones and changed
their skins to ashen crones
and raven plumes and sordid
putrid greens of dying dreams
she has clawed at reaching
hands and torn the turning
sun with its inflamed forest
she has stolen the beating
hearts of the stagnant pools
and plunged them far below
into her dragoon graves
she has her knaves who
break the brittle and hollow
pits to leave the shells in
sightless soundless soulless
hells but whistle her tune
she has her names she
drains from veins the vamp,
the hag, the killer of Pan
she has her time that
blackens days into glorious
nights and hearkens those
back to hearths and frights
in early shallow mirrors
those crisp layered shells
to shatter under a nudge
she has loathed the youth
in vibrant tones and changed
their skins to ashen crones
and raven plumes and sordid
putrid greens of dying dreams
she has clawed at reaching
hands and torn the turning
sun with its inflamed forest
she has stolen the beating
hearts of the stagnant pools
and plunged them far below
into her dragoon graves
she has her knaves who
break the brittle and hollow
pits to leave the shells in
sightless soundless soulless
hells but whistle her tune
she has her names she
drains from veins the vamp,
the hag, the killer of Pan
she has her time that
blackens days into glorious
nights and hearkens those
back to hearths and frights
Saturday, October 4, 2014
Flowers in your hair
shattered the life that was
and fell and flowed
into hands that now
itch of corn and reek
of late marigold essence
the life that fell into
halls only rabbits frequent
for royalty and pilgrim
sails in whirling puffs
for sips of divinity
the life that flowed
through those halls
as slithering hunger
to beget a shiny coat
to forget the shedded
skin left in shadows
the life in body wake
fell asleep the toad
in buried October mud
and married the little
gained from trolley tones
and Amherst rendezvous
the life not known
but once was home
now harbors beyond
the bay with first breath
in May little more to say
and fell and flowed
into hands that now
itch of corn and reek
of late marigold essence
the life that fell into
halls only rabbits frequent
for royalty and pilgrim
sails in whirling puffs
for sips of divinity
the life that flowed
through those halls
as slithering hunger
to beget a shiny coat
to forget the shedded
skin left in shadows
the life in body wake
fell asleep the toad
in buried October mud
and married the little
gained from trolley tones
and Amherst rendezvous
the life not known
but once was home
now harbors beyond
the bay with first breath
in May little more to say
Sunday, September 28, 2014
Twining days
in twining days
that slow with heavy fruit
the impatient nights
are sought by local gods
whose croaks are remnants
of former nocturnal glories
and cry now for what few
crumbs of creeping things
and dragonfly wings will
keep them in an icy sleep
in twining days
that shed what both
earth and light married
in the angels' lair
whose feathers drift aloft
in battling breezes among
and through the gnarled
halls of ancient lullabies,
through the arms that once
cradled, swaying us to sleep
in twining days
that crown the trees with
hues of Aurora's glory
bleeding from the eve
whose blackened cloaks
of indigo webbing and
cobalt silks ripple across
the midnight high, to catch
the Sandman's dust that
gleams above a child's sleep
in these twining days
that coil around trailing flame
and whisper out a name
to the chill upon the wind
whose deed is death in
a freezing breath that raps
upon the Autumn's door
and laces dreams of the
dormant seeds deep within
their terrestrial sleep
that slow with heavy fruit
the impatient nights
are sought by local gods
whose croaks are remnants
of former nocturnal glories
and cry now for what few
crumbs of creeping things
and dragonfly wings will
keep them in an icy sleep
in twining days
that shed what both
earth and light married
in the angels' lair
whose feathers drift aloft
in battling breezes among
and through the gnarled
halls of ancient lullabies,
through the arms that once
cradled, swaying us to sleep
in twining days
that crown the trees with
hues of Aurora's glory
bleeding from the eve
whose blackened cloaks
of indigo webbing and
cobalt silks ripple across
the midnight high, to catch
the Sandman's dust that
gleams above a child's sleep
in these twining days
that coil around trailing flame
and whisper out a name
to the chill upon the wind
whose deed is death in
a freezing breath that raps
upon the Autumn's door
and laces dreams of the
dormant seeds deep within
their terrestrial sleep
Saturday, September 20, 2014
Neither now nor later
what will I know
when hopes are sold
of soldiers bold
to brothers, choke
on their polluted joke
and what was home
a country known
now country owned
by boundless greed
and twisted seed
the wind, it ran
now whistles through
heavy charcoal hue
pours down the pain
that weeps from rain
the earth, it slept
now growls with spit
sick chemical vomit
black blood reborn
churns in ocean storm
what was the home
where dreams were sown
and soaked to bone
the goals to feed
unknown paths to lead
what have I known
when my tales are told
and the sun is cold
when clears the smoke
from this sleep I woke
when hopes are sold
of soldiers bold
to brothers, choke
on their polluted joke
and what was home
a country known
now country owned
by boundless greed
and twisted seed
the wind, it ran
now whistles through
heavy charcoal hue
pours down the pain
that weeps from rain
the earth, it slept
now growls with spit
sick chemical vomit
black blood reborn
churns in ocean storm
what was the home
where dreams were sown
and soaked to bone
the goals to feed
unknown paths to lead
what have I known
when my tales are told
and the sun is cold
when clears the smoke
from this sleep I woke
Sunday, September 14, 2014
Cold creep
the cold is an audacious cad
making leaves blush from his advances
the cold's impatience marbles
the lingering September warmth
adulterating it with rushing vigor
that lacks in endless August days
the growing evenings glow
with fire revelries of patrons
needing more than one or two skins
the cold lures roots from
their soiled cellars and
fruits from their lofty perches
it spurs spinning of silks
by sickle shaped moonlight
until eight legs aren't enough anymore
making leaves blush from his advances
the cold's impatience marbles
the lingering September warmth
adulterating it with rushing vigor
that lacks in endless August days
the growing evenings glow
with fire revelries of patrons
needing more than one or two skins
the cold lures roots from
their soiled cellars and
fruits from their lofty perches
it spurs spinning of silks
by sickle shaped moonlight
until eight legs aren't enough anymore
Saturday, September 13, 2014
Fleeting flight
a trade of toenails and head of hair
for dusty wings in the autumn air
and in the warmth of morning sun
an open blossom to lay my tongue
for salmon hued beacons of hope
carry troves of pollen laced dope
the rope from which to hang myself
in pooling oceans of nectar wealth
and gladly give my bag of bones
to swim among these vivid tones
perfecting headstands in the flowers
and to sip away the afternoon hours
what it is to be bee or moth
to hide in silky petal cloth
a life of whim in moon of cancer
dining amidst orange yellow anther
out to seek pistil lip kisses
flowing from sweet fountain head wishes
for this do take my human soul
and trade it all, paid in full
don me now my weightless wings
take my place among fleeting kings
for then when water stands as glass
my glorious flight will come to pass
for dusty wings in the autumn air
and in the warmth of morning sun
an open blossom to lay my tongue
for salmon hued beacons of hope
carry troves of pollen laced dope
the rope from which to hang myself
in pooling oceans of nectar wealth
and gladly give my bag of bones
to swim among these vivid tones
perfecting headstands in the flowers
and to sip away the afternoon hours
what it is to be bee or moth
to hide in silky petal cloth
a life of whim in moon of cancer
dining amidst orange yellow anther
out to seek pistil lip kisses
flowing from sweet fountain head wishes
for this do take my human soul
and trade it all, paid in full
don me now my weightless wings
take my place among fleeting kings
for then when water stands as glass
my glorious flight will come to pass
Monday, September 8, 2014
The monsters that I've known
to wear silks
over a hollow shell
the spider's spit
in a woven hell
mind a trance
in forgotten days
in times where
the darkness stays
and blood turns to stone
remembering the monsters that I've known
color takes leave
in colder sleep
sepia seeps into
the dreamer's keep
ice to encase
a burning heat
to idle down
the restless beat
and blood turns to stone
remembering the monsters that I've known
liquid flesh falls
from ravaged arms
shedding what was
and other charms
for madness screams
from swollen eyes
witnessing the throng
of Beelzebub's flies
and blood turns to stone
remembering the monsters that I've known
feed the grubs
and slimy slugs
they are the dosage
of laced drugs
and mildew white
on sprawling leaves
where the spider still
fiercely weaves
and blood turns to stone
remembering the monsters that I've known
bows the high
with haughty head
to rotten roots
the shadow's led
curls what dries
to wither there
and twist within
the chilling air
a place it was
that woven hell
and mastered over
by the name of L
and blood turns to stone
remembering the monsters that I've known
over a hollow shell
the spider's spit
in a woven hell
mind a trance
in forgotten days
in times where
the darkness stays
and blood turns to stone
remembering the monsters that I've known
color takes leave
in colder sleep
sepia seeps into
the dreamer's keep
ice to encase
a burning heat
to idle down
the restless beat
and blood turns to stone
remembering the monsters that I've known
liquid flesh falls
from ravaged arms
shedding what was
and other charms
for madness screams
from swollen eyes
witnessing the throng
of Beelzebub's flies
and blood turns to stone
remembering the monsters that I've known
feed the grubs
and slimy slugs
they are the dosage
of laced drugs
and mildew white
on sprawling leaves
where the spider still
fiercely weaves
and blood turns to stone
remembering the monsters that I've known
bows the high
with haughty head
to rotten roots
the shadow's led
curls what dries
to wither there
and twist within
the chilling air
a place it was
that woven hell
and mastered over
by the name of L
and blood turns to stone
remembering the monsters that I've known
Saturday, August 30, 2014
Dew
hangs from webs
from silky threads
the lover's morning kiss
in the night to surrender
in light to dismiss
lingers on cheek
the taste of knowing
what wild beasts revel
in tempest winds blowing
to cease, release, the
inevitable calm at tips
of savage hands and hooves
bathe with earthly
sweat and wash clean
any lonely threat
that lingers within
the kiss dismissed
glows the peace
post tempest release
and soothes both
wild men and beasts
in somber groves
of stretching legs
and branches advances
surrender of the savage
beat in the moment of heat
and fades the pulse
which shook the dark
in the dripping dew
from silky threads
the lover's morning kiss
in the night to surrender
in light to dismiss
lingers on cheek
the taste of knowing
what wild beasts revel
in tempest winds blowing
to cease, release, the
inevitable calm at tips
of savage hands and hooves
bathe with earthly
sweat and wash clean
any lonely threat
that lingers within
the kiss dismissed
glows the peace
post tempest release
and soothes both
wild men and beasts
in somber groves
of stretching legs
and branches advances
surrender of the savage
beat in the moment of heat
and fades the pulse
which shook the dark
in the dripping dew
Sunday, August 24, 2014
Jargon Jaunting: part how cow
a man with grass hands
the man on flat lands
has much at stake with steak
and a moo amore
a man on a hot day
the man who's fought hay
has much to rake for steak
and a moo amore
a man out in cold snow
the man laying out the mow
has much to make in steak
and a moo amore
a man bringing the herd
the man's horse being spurred
has much to take for steak
and a moo amore
the man on flat lands
has much at stake with steak
and a moo amore
a man on a hot day
the man who's fought hay
has much to rake for steak
and a moo amore
a man out in cold snow
the man laying out the mow
has much to make in steak
and a moo amore
a man bringing the herd
the man's horse being spurred
has much to take for steak
and a moo amore
Friday, August 15, 2014
Muddied boots
leave your muddied
boots at the door
don't need your
footsteps on my floor
nor the wet earth
with all its weight
a rainy day that's
come way too late
tipsy clouds spill
out their wine
and scurry off
in time for shine
yet it's the weathered
ones who know
that without rain
it's just a bow
in darkened days
the light is dear
sometimes in laughter
there's a tear
a flood will wash
away the past
to make your dreams
come true at last
those crazy clouds
spill out their wine
and rush away
in time for shine
the weathered ones
are those who know
that without rain
it's just a bow
dams and levees
are often for naught
stop of flow
can lead to rot
leave those muddied
boots at the door
after this tide you
won't need them anymore
'cause trippy clouds
are pouring out their wine
and rushing away
in time for shine
those weathered ones
aren't the only who know
that without rain
it's just a bow
boots at the door
don't need your
footsteps on my floor
nor the wet earth
with all its weight
a rainy day that's
come way too late
tipsy clouds spill
out their wine
and scurry off
in time for shine
yet it's the weathered
ones who know
that without rain
it's just a bow
in darkened days
the light is dear
sometimes in laughter
there's a tear
a flood will wash
away the past
to make your dreams
come true at last
those crazy clouds
spill out their wine
and rush away
in time for shine
the weathered ones
are those who know
that without rain
it's just a bow
dams and levees
are often for naught
stop of flow
can lead to rot
leave those muddied
boots at the door
after this tide you
won't need them anymore
'cause trippy clouds
are pouring out their wine
and rushing away
in time for shine
those weathered ones
aren't the only who know
that without rain
it's just a bow
Thursday, August 7, 2014
The pool
bathe between
basking to remember little of the pool crawled out of
the pool's ponders
of passing present
and how future presents
of clay and ash
burnt in the kiln
to harden, to break,
to crumble and powder
for liquid lips to quench
their thirst for
earthen flesh and the rest
that stirs the waters
for memories laid low
and laden below with
weighty deaths, the births too anxious to wait to pull taffy trapped between what one believes,
what one knows in soul
the whole that all
fell into and from to
waken from the waves
crashing upon sullied vessels and rise
from murky cradles
the pool to birth
to forget former drops
that teared and ran from
flickering flames, released
and relented what drained
through grasping fingers
that stirs more than silt
the ash of deeper chasms
unknown to busy toils, all
too familiar to frequent
pauses taken throughout the day
no night nor day lingers
to dangle a toe in the pool
beyond the bath the ticks tock
and leaves fall and rot
yet all who have played and fought
are the endless tides of the pool
basking to remember little of the pool crawled out of
the pool's ponders
of passing present
and how future presents
of clay and ash
burnt in the kiln
to harden, to break,
to crumble and powder
for liquid lips to quench
their thirst for
earthen flesh and the rest
that stirs the waters
for memories laid low
and laden below with
weighty deaths, the births too anxious to wait to pull taffy trapped between what one believes,
what one knows in soul
the whole that all
fell into and from to
waken from the waves
crashing upon sullied vessels and rise
from murky cradles
the pool to birth
to forget former drops
that teared and ran from
flickering flames, released
and relented what drained
through grasping fingers
that stirs more than silt
the ash of deeper chasms
unknown to busy toils, all
too familiar to frequent
pauses taken throughout the day
no night nor day lingers
to dangle a toe in the pool
beyond the bath the ticks tock
and leaves fall and rot
yet all who have played and fought
are the endless tides of the pool
Saturday, August 2, 2014
From dreams
from dreams the lot is lost
in cast out prisms which beckon
naught the glory of hue
from crimson blood
flooding indigo blue
prisms beckon instead
those puzzled memoirs lurking
in drowned chasms of the head
drowned victims released
after arising from the bed
the release of bloated
corpses who have been
thrown down endless stairwells
the release of rare hells
that hunger with brimming bellies
and in the letting go
of ravaged moments,
times which have been
over savored to tastelessness
their cocoons are severed
for silk on tiny legs to fly
to fly through raining
sunlight and the snuffed out
bonfires of words
in cast out prisms which beckon
naught the glory of hue
from crimson blood
flooding indigo blue
prisms beckon instead
those puzzled memoirs lurking
in drowned chasms of the head
drowned victims released
after arising from the bed
the release of bloated
corpses who have been
thrown down endless stairwells
the release of rare hells
that hunger with brimming bellies
and in the letting go
of ravaged moments,
times which have been
over savored to tastelessness
their cocoons are severed
for silk on tiny legs to fly
to fly through raining
sunlight and the snuffed out
bonfires of words
Saturday, July 26, 2014
In the rain
words on a page
smolder red in a rage
and flicker in the
pouring...
rain was the way
we danced in that day
and trickled down the
flowing sea
it was you and me
and nothing but the...
clouds, cried aloud
from their lofty prison cells
gray was the day
in deafening thunder
and clouds unbecoming themselves
red on a bird
flew away with a word
and shuttered in the
freezing...
pain was to stay
to dance another day
and utter just a
bleeding lie
no more you and I
and nothing but the...
clouds, cried aloud
from their aching tortured hells
betray another day
in deafening thunder
and clouds unbecoming themselves
smolder red in a rage
and flicker in the
pouring...
rain was the way
we danced in that day
and trickled down the
flowing sea
it was you and me
and nothing but the...
clouds, cried aloud
from their lofty prison cells
gray was the day
in deafening thunder
and clouds unbecoming themselves
red on a bird
flew away with a word
and shuttered in the
freezing...
pain was to stay
to dance another day
and utter just a
bleeding lie
no more you and I
and nothing but the...
clouds, cried aloud
from their aching tortured hells
betray another day
in deafening thunder
and clouds unbecoming themselves
Saturday, July 19, 2014
Orange glazed horizons
awaken the eyes
the rise from slumber
to a burning soul
in orange glazed horizons
still the tassels twirl
in sweeping swirls of
pollen-laced clouds
by sleepless breezes
these, the breezes
keep green dance partners
from rest at peace
least at this hour
in flower, the cosmos
with blended golden
azure ripples in unfolding
petals of the day
lace makers of foliage
yawn in this orange dawn
with grinning green teeth
and v hind legs
their cousin man
no longer shares their
emerald smile, after all
it's been awhile
since their fingers plucked
a leaf or two to sit and chew
and have their fill
of raw in state chlorophyll
now when man beams
from ear to profit dreams
the last tooth is blue from
time spent smoking the sky
no need for those teeth of
green, they have been wean
to sip on numerical words
and liquid earthen blood
and awaken their eyes
the rise from slumber
to a burning soul
in orange-glazed horizons
the rise from slumber
to a burning soul
in orange glazed horizons
still the tassels twirl
in sweeping swirls of
pollen-laced clouds
by sleepless breezes
these, the breezes
keep green dance partners
from rest at peace
least at this hour
in flower, the cosmos
with blended golden
azure ripples in unfolding
petals of the day
lace makers of foliage
yawn in this orange dawn
with grinning green teeth
and v hind legs
their cousin man
no longer shares their
emerald smile, after all
it's been awhile
since their fingers plucked
a leaf or two to sit and chew
and have their fill
of raw in state chlorophyll
now when man beams
from ear to profit dreams
the last tooth is blue from
time spent smoking the sky
no need for those teeth of
green, they have been wean
to sip on numerical words
and liquid earthen blood
and awaken their eyes
the rise from slumber
to a burning soul
in orange-glazed horizons
Saturday, July 12, 2014
Knowing up from up
what keeps the water in the land
to hold its drops from dripping up
and raining down into the sky
for eyes of you or even mine
are looking up into the blue
yet looking down from another view
our magnet soles cling to the land
when into the nightly abyss our
gaze pours down into the sky
for lies anew or even of old
are spilled into the cosmos
and retold for every directional cue
to hold its drops from dripping up
and raining down into the sky
for eyes of you or even mine
are looking up into the blue
yet looking down from another view
our magnet soles cling to the land
when into the nightly abyss our
gaze pours down into the sky
for lies anew or even of old
are spilled into the cosmos
and retold for every directional cue
Saturday, July 5, 2014
Canvasing
timid hairs rise on the arm
on the extended hand
of the brush laced with thickened hue
pouring pain and pleasure both
in each and every stroke
that strokes the tightened skin
stretched to never move again
but move it does
in twisted calico contours
that tunnel through a neighbor's brain
in stark chilling structures
seeded in tearful black rain
rain that spatters
and tatters purest of white
the naked flesh of the mirror
flashing pieces of soul...
whole, diced, sewn up and spliced
mindful blind eyes look
into the twin,
the skin enveloping the frame
the same of a different name
whose will will never tame
for wild throats scream
across the spectrum of light
screams that resonate colors
of the passing moonlit night
echoing in fractured streams
in blended realistic dreams
where moths are released from the heart
then explode before us to impart
in a new creation, in something called art
on the extended hand
of the brush laced with thickened hue
pouring pain and pleasure both
in each and every stroke
that strokes the tightened skin
stretched to never move again
but move it does
in twisted calico contours
that tunnel through a neighbor's brain
in stark chilling structures
seeded in tearful black rain
rain that spatters
and tatters purest of white
the naked flesh of the mirror
flashing pieces of soul...
whole, diced, sewn up and spliced
mindful blind eyes look
into the twin,
the skin enveloping the frame
the same of a different name
whose will will never tame
for wild throats scream
across the spectrum of light
screams that resonate colors
of the passing moonlit night
echoing in fractured streams
in blended realistic dreams
where moths are released from the heart
then explode before us to impart
in a new creation, in something called art
Sunday, June 29, 2014
Woven
will has woven blades of grass
and white aloft in astral fields
what surrender has puddled
from shattered slicing notions
the woven lines once
stood in distant island groves
where within boyhood ponders
lurked among the misty morns
yet rises sol in solar planes
and morns weep for death of night
in dewy tears that ascend
to white aloft in astral fields
those standing lines bowed
for surrender of soul to scythe
the cutting blade releasing
time stored in youthful fears
and rooted lines laid low
to gather for life's bundled shock
in rootless pursuits of the
now fruitless distant island groves
woven what will has tailored to
pooling surrender from a vein or few
the past portions gobbled up from view
what could have been ensues
and white aloft in astral fields
what surrender has puddled
from shattered slicing notions
the woven lines once
stood in distant island groves
where within boyhood ponders
lurked among the misty morns
yet rises sol in solar planes
and morns weep for death of night
in dewy tears that ascend
to white aloft in astral fields
those standing lines bowed
for surrender of soul to scythe
the cutting blade releasing
time stored in youthful fears
and rooted lines laid low
to gather for life's bundled shock
in rootless pursuits of the
now fruitless distant island groves
woven what will has tailored to
pooling surrender from a vein or few
the past portions gobbled up from view
what could have been ensues
Sunday, June 22, 2014
In earth
what makes the earth
what earth has built and sown
and fed and named its own
for feeding threads
who have weaved the past
atop their grandfathers' fields
who have weaved the past
what their history yields
and wields the earth
a scythe and gnashing teeth
to reap and eat the old
in chasms deep beneath
so floats the former
in effervescent seltzer seas
where gummy worms meld
in bird-built grassy bowls
congeals the felled
in stone and trunks
that wandered green grass hills
the dead put them in their place
when an empty grave fills
thus earth is made
when sacrificed are the things
that succumb to their dreams
what earth has built and sown
and fed and named its own
for feeding threads
who have weaved the past
atop their grandfathers' fields
who have weaved the past
what their history yields
and wields the earth
a scythe and gnashing teeth
to reap and eat the old
in chasms deep beneath
so floats the former
in effervescent seltzer seas
where gummy worms meld
in bird-built grassy bowls
congeals the felled
in stone and trunks
that wandered green grass hills
the dead put them in their place
when an empty grave fills
thus earth is made
when sacrificed are the things
that succumb to their dreams
Saturday, May 24, 2014
Wet dry pact
tempest tears
ten blessed dreary days
my cracked skin
dry fracked thinning maze
a web of veiny raise
a bowl for rainy days
days to dance in wet
praise for dewy debt
in supple falling splash
down-pouring thrash
lap and lick your groove
in cool clear liquid move
wind dressed years
thin pressed eerie haze
high stacked sin
sky-tract spinning phase
of burning heat release
of fire and of grease
days drawn to turn
nights linger and burn
bodies fall and wilt
in time to form the silt
crushed, scattered, thrown
in the stars their sown
ten blessed dreary days
my cracked skin
dry fracked thinning maze
a web of veiny raise
a bowl for rainy days
days to dance in wet
praise for dewy debt
in supple falling splash
down-pouring thrash
lap and lick your groove
in cool clear liquid move
wind dressed years
thin pressed eerie haze
high stacked sin
sky-tract spinning phase
of burning heat release
of fire and of grease
days drawn to turn
nights linger and burn
bodies fall and wilt
in time to form the silt
crushed, scattered, thrown
in the stars their sown
Saturday, May 17, 2014
Jargon jaunting: part forest
A forest tour it is, and a tourist you may be
but have ever you thought about what is a tree?
for there are many many kinds
and still more many many finds
to what makes up a genuine.....tree
for N-stance, if you found a trunk
and heard its bark rather eloquently
words beginning with letter fourteen
theN for sure you found an N-tree
touche I say, out on the flat plains
where very few things grow, you see
you can feel its presence, often cold
what do you expect from a blowing Win-tree
yet here in the kitchen cupboard or
there hanging upon the red chimney
is it a copper bottom shrub or a
cast iron bush? No, it's simply a Pan-tree
this one here can walk about
whether it moves too fast or slowly
nonetheless it likes baked goods
yep, you guessed it, it's a Pace-tree
many times this one is confused
with one whose bark is quite spicy
though this one is the same
from the middle, behold the Symme-tree
a very tempting tree is this
synonymous with a western city
however it stands guard of its
assigned charge being that it's a Sen-tree
this one's a lush, no doubting it
from the goofy grin and acting silly
indeed it was to be well bred and
uppity, but alas it's just a Gen-tree
these two are, if trees can be twins
the older known as an Ancien-tree
and from roots to hopefully forking
branches, the younger one is an Ances-tree
don't mind the squawking balk or
constant talk from this last one, finally
for little is known of the feathered
fiend 'cept for its name, a Pull-tree
so at the tour's end, I hope you see my friend
though I may linguistically condescend
beyond the bark and leaves there's much more to see
Huh? Why no, I didn't even want to mention this Poa-tree
but have ever you thought about what is a tree?
for there are many many kinds
and still more many many finds
to what makes up a genuine.....tree
for N-stance, if you found a trunk
and heard its bark rather eloquently
words beginning with letter fourteen
theN for sure you found an N-tree
touche I say, out on the flat plains
where very few things grow, you see
you can feel its presence, often cold
what do you expect from a blowing Win-tree
yet here in the kitchen cupboard or
there hanging upon the red chimney
is it a copper bottom shrub or a
cast iron bush? No, it's simply a Pan-tree
this one here can walk about
whether it moves too fast or slowly
nonetheless it likes baked goods
yep, you guessed it, it's a Pace-tree
many times this one is confused
with one whose bark is quite spicy
though this one is the same
from the middle, behold the Symme-tree
a very tempting tree is this
synonymous with a western city
however it stands guard of its
assigned charge being that it's a Sen-tree
this one's a lush, no doubting it
from the goofy grin and acting silly
indeed it was to be well bred and
uppity, but alas it's just a Gen-tree
these two are, if trees can be twins
the older known as an Ancien-tree
and from roots to hopefully forking
branches, the younger one is an Ances-tree
don't mind the squawking balk or
constant talk from this last one, finally
for little is known of the feathered
fiend 'cept for its name, a Pull-tree
so at the tour's end, I hope you see my friend
though I may linguistically condescend
beyond the bark and leaves there's much more to see
Huh? Why no, I didn't even want to mention this Poa-tree
Thursday, May 15, 2014
lingers Luna
she hung in the western sky
a remnant of her former glory
in pale array and bleached
when faced with her ignition
very nearly a mirage out
on the hemisphere where
what's old wanders off to
she too had wandered there
in the time when lights pass
between wake and sleep and
rusty skies and cracked open eyes
in the receding silence and
pooling hum of morning
she sank into her enormity
moments left to catch the
eyes of early risers and
dreams for delayed slumber
of others and of herself
dreams of nightly reign as
goddess aglow still brighter
across the glitter of snow
clinging to memories of
revelries danced beneath
her beaming arc, the wishes,
the hope, the light in the dark
a remnant of her former glory
in pale array and bleached
when faced with her ignition
very nearly a mirage out
on the hemisphere where
what's old wanders off to
she too had wandered there
in the time when lights pass
between wake and sleep and
rusty skies and cracked open eyes
in the receding silence and
pooling hum of morning
she sank into her enormity
moments left to catch the
eyes of early risers and
dreams for delayed slumber
of others and of herself
dreams of nightly reign as
goddess aglow still brighter
across the glitter of snow
clinging to memories of
revelries danced beneath
her beaming arc, the wishes,
the hope, the light in the dark
Saturday, May 10, 2014
The calm ocean
she is a calm ocean
who all vessels know
and therein grow
she was given her
portion of the primal
bath when drier land
was more at hand
she and her sisters
carried inside the ocean
they once knew
onto the drier land
where no ocean
waves crashed upon
green forest floor
or parched sand
within her chamber
she held anew
she carried you
the imminent tide
carried you out of
the ocean your mother
and into first breath
though her tributary
to you was severed
the heart string still
humming was blessed
there isn't a distance
to sever her tie to you
or your memories of
those ocean depths
who all vessels know
and therein grow
she was given her
portion of the primal
bath when drier land
was more at hand
she and her sisters
carried inside the ocean
they once knew
onto the drier land
where no ocean
waves crashed upon
green forest floor
or parched sand
within her chamber
she held anew
she carried you
the imminent tide
carried you out of
the ocean your mother
and into first breath
though her tributary
to you was severed
the heart string still
humming was blessed
there isn't a distance
to sever her tie to you
or your memories of
those ocean depths
Thursday, May 8, 2014
The psychomanteum
a chamber, a crypt behind a door in
the back of a cellar
layered with smell of moist earth that
only dead men noses know
grimy stones holding dirt from swallowing
the man-made cavity
room of darkness never seeing light
beyond the cellar door
only infrequent candles warm the
stale damp chamber air
dim light radiant within enveloping
shadowy hunger and greed
into reflection, fire dances within
breath of shaking visitor
one who's walked the blurred path into
and beyond the mirrored veil
in chair and desire and eyes set upon
a lingering candlelit figure
exhale to extinguish the tiny flame
and into the obscure reflection
sudden dark heavily teases and tears at
straining pupils and eager ears
alone in silence and deprivation to trigger
a sense so used to, now missed
only a heightened inner lub-dub rings
out through waxy canals
slightly in widened eyes seep murky mists
of phosphorescence glow
in the yet deeper cavity of reflection does
the luminescent wisps grow
in the still deeper corridors of lub-dubbing
quickens the repetitious pulse
for fear and hope are the twisted rope
the visitor dares to teeter on
the two masters that spur the eyes to
consume all before them
in swift lub-dubs the breath ceases
as wisps unite and transfigure
a figure of light originating before the night
before dark, before shadow
copper the skin of a golden beastly face
and titanium flow of hair
sits opposite of the visitor trembling
in awe of the astral presence
the throne of silver thorns that slice
through the mirrored veil
raging fires flaring in the smoldering gray
abyss within the reflection
yet beastly face holds viper cast upon
the summoner of his presence
a smirk slithers across platinum lips
and into the piercing eyes
a gesture to ease racing lub-dubs, to return
a breath into starving lungs
eternity passes in the moment when he
and him dwell in their gaze
haze creeps with spidery webs as the
glowing astral being moves
to the visitor's rope of fear and hope
coiled around his beating throat
stands and is pulled toward without
refusal of the veil's call
outstretched, the luminous arm within
the silvery reflection haze
gaze fastened under lock and key and lips
between lub-dubs and breath
palms within and without draw near to
near touch to breach the veil
the back of a cellar
layered with smell of moist earth that
only dead men noses know
grimy stones holding dirt from swallowing
the man-made cavity
room of darkness never seeing light
beyond the cellar door
only infrequent candles warm the
stale damp chamber air
dim light radiant within enveloping
shadowy hunger and greed
into reflection, fire dances within
breath of shaking visitor
one who's walked the blurred path into
and beyond the mirrored veil
in chair and desire and eyes set upon
a lingering candlelit figure
exhale to extinguish the tiny flame
and into the obscure reflection
sudden dark heavily teases and tears at
straining pupils and eager ears
alone in silence and deprivation to trigger
a sense so used to, now missed
only a heightened inner lub-dub rings
out through waxy canals
slightly in widened eyes seep murky mists
of phosphorescence glow
in the yet deeper cavity of reflection does
the luminescent wisps grow
in the still deeper corridors of lub-dubbing
quickens the repetitious pulse
for fear and hope are the twisted rope
the visitor dares to teeter on
the two masters that spur the eyes to
consume all before them
in swift lub-dubs the breath ceases
as wisps unite and transfigure
a figure of light originating before the night
before dark, before shadow
copper the skin of a golden beastly face
and titanium flow of hair
sits opposite of the visitor trembling
in awe of the astral presence
the throne of silver thorns that slice
through the mirrored veil
raging fires flaring in the smoldering gray
abyss within the reflection
yet beastly face holds viper cast upon
the summoner of his presence
a smirk slithers across platinum lips
and into the piercing eyes
a gesture to ease racing lub-dubs, to return
a breath into starving lungs
eternity passes in the moment when he
and him dwell in their gaze
haze creeps with spidery webs as the
glowing astral being moves
to the visitor's rope of fear and hope
coiled around his beating throat
stands and is pulled toward without
refusal of the veil's call
outstretched, the luminous arm within
the silvery reflection haze
gaze fastened under lock and key and lips
between lub-dubs and breath
palms within and without draw near to
near touch to breach the veil
Thursday, May 1, 2014
Whispers of the dust
a slithering snake the
winding dirt road which
at times had breached
its banks and bled
into the parched fields
two or more of those
slithering snakes had
chased and played with
children walking home
from their school day
down the dusty dirt road
at times when snakes
were all afforded for toys
of girls and boys and
slithering dirt roads bled
into the parched fields
times when the land
crashed upon the prairie's
shore in choking waves
of dust and dark surrender
ever to remember
times stuck to flypaper
in the minds of those now
sitting in rest home lobbies
or chucking seed to birds
within the courtyards
those who had seen
crops come and go, seen
locusts come and go, seen
neighbors mostly go with
and where ever the plundering
wind wanted to take them
those who still sing the
hymn of the western wind
in pasted porcelain hearts
that still hold their
parents' tearful fears and
whispers of the dust
winding dirt road which
at times had breached
its banks and bled
into the parched fields
two or more of those
slithering snakes had
chased and played with
children walking home
from their school day
down the dusty dirt road
at times when snakes
were all afforded for toys
of girls and boys and
slithering dirt roads bled
into the parched fields
times when the land
crashed upon the prairie's
shore in choking waves
of dust and dark surrender
ever to remember
times stuck to flypaper
in the minds of those now
sitting in rest home lobbies
or chucking seed to birds
within the courtyards
those who had seen
crops come and go, seen
locusts come and go, seen
neighbors mostly go with
and where ever the plundering
wind wanted to take them
those who still sing the
hymn of the western wind
in pasted porcelain hearts
that still hold their
parents' tearful fears and
whispers of the dust
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
Wet wearing kiss
jagged meandering crevices
jutting through pavement
once permanent, now
another fleeting folly
web of cracks branching,
blue veining alive in
cement slice of cheese
instigating, the liquid
poured and drizzled and
caught and frozen
tapping fingers on oval
puddles, canyons created
by wintry reveling and
late freezing kisses
oval puddles blinking
with each drop, puddles
feeding creeping courses
through concrete cliffs
each drop its duty
to steal away the land's
booty in flooding flows
and out to salty sea
long the lick of earthy
skin for mineral spit
and muddy blood
yet slippery hooks have
will to carry any stones
that sit and tarry
wider and deeper and
more the cracks grow as
pavement yields its youth,
as earthen flesh grows old
jutting through pavement
once permanent, now
another fleeting folly
web of cracks branching,
blue veining alive in
cement slice of cheese
instigating, the liquid
poured and drizzled and
caught and frozen
tapping fingers on oval
puddles, canyons created
by wintry reveling and
late freezing kisses
oval puddles blinking
with each drop, puddles
feeding creeping courses
through concrete cliffs
each drop its duty
to steal away the land's
booty in flooding flows
and out to salty sea
long the lick of earthy
skin for mineral spit
and muddy blood
yet slippery hooks have
will to carry any stones
that sit and tarry
wider and deeper and
more the cracks grow as
pavement yields its youth,
as earthen flesh grows old
Sunday, April 27, 2014
Jargon jaunting: part blimey rhyme disease
it starts off with a wheeze
then a repetitious sneeze
next the verse comes in threes
it could have come from split-peas
or an ailment in a fateful breeze
blowing across the inner leas
the cause, one of those mysteries
perhaps contagious slimy lime trees
are the roots of the blimey rhyme disease
of course it might be cheese
or a sudden unexpected freeze
one or a combination of these
a suspicion of infected bees
that stung a meandering sleaze
who then passed it on overseas
from medic journals we'll squeeze
all cases, doctors, and their fees
related with the blimey rhyme disease
not the same virus type for pc's
instead a plague suited for fleas
or lyrical listens written to please
now this may set an unease
causing some to drop to their knees
while others spin into chaotic sprees
patience is needed with this reprise
and dealing with a grimy prime displease
as is this ridiculous blimey rhyme disease
then a repetitious sneeze
next the verse comes in threes
it could have come from split-peas
or an ailment in a fateful breeze
blowing across the inner leas
the cause, one of those mysteries
perhaps contagious slimy lime trees
are the roots of the blimey rhyme disease
of course it might be cheese
or a sudden unexpected freeze
one or a combination of these
a suspicion of infected bees
that stung a meandering sleaze
who then passed it on overseas
from medic journals we'll squeeze
all cases, doctors, and their fees
related with the blimey rhyme disease
not the same virus type for pc's
instead a plague suited for fleas
or lyrical listens written to please
now this may set an unease
causing some to drop to their knees
while others spin into chaotic sprees
patience is needed with this reprise
and dealing with a grimy prime displease
as is this ridiculous blimey rhyme disease
Saturday, April 26, 2014
Sandman's whim
in a dream was a choice
a voice of water or of dry
and sands were a still
and constant ocean
of whose waves I
couldn't climb and
depths I would not seek
stoic boulders were
islands in the underground
sea within whose waters
I glimpsed the paths
too distant for my feet
in the choice of water
I was shown a shadowed past
for evening torrents in
clouded gray green winds
cried against a casa blanca
stuccoed with western age
and companion clothesline
but west met east in
Buddhist inflections of
the scene, of the storm,
of the path or choice
laid in terrestrial terms
in the choice of dry
I was cast upon the sands
yet these desert grains
must have seen the rains
for moist were they when
swept away and leveled and
ordered for prayers said
in the murky skies of
the given choice from
this wet or that dry,
I reflected in waking duties
to think, to know little choice
there is between saturated
deserts and thirsty seas
a voice of water or of dry
and sands were a still
and constant ocean
of whose waves I
couldn't climb and
depths I would not seek
stoic boulders were
islands in the underground
sea within whose waters
I glimpsed the paths
too distant for my feet
in the choice of water
I was shown a shadowed past
for evening torrents in
clouded gray green winds
cried against a casa blanca
stuccoed with western age
and companion clothesline
but west met east in
Buddhist inflections of
the scene, of the storm,
of the path or choice
laid in terrestrial terms
in the choice of dry
I was cast upon the sands
yet these desert grains
must have seen the rains
for moist were they when
swept away and leveled and
ordered for prayers said
in the murky skies of
the given choice from
this wet or that dry,
I reflected in waking duties
to think, to know little choice
there is between saturated
deserts and thirsty seas
Friday, April 25, 2014
Flickering moments
under surface and
into the deep, now to
seep into everyday days
in flickering moments
when lights tease the living
and stops green to go
feathers fly for
copper colored coins on
a luminous Ouija board
laughing when it hurts
to remember from
July through November
who touches leaping
heartbeats, who awakes
the flesh when near
in the still never known
in flesh, whispering tones
to catch a glance of
adjacent to the beauty
left, hasten the tears
falling in tissue basin
journey, stories written
savor, memories printed
depart, love ascended
into the deep, now to
seep into everyday days
in flickering moments
when lights tease the living
and stops green to go
feathers fly for
copper colored coins on
a luminous Ouija board
laughing when it hurts
to remember from
July through November
who touches leaping
heartbeats, who awakes
the flesh when near
in the still never known
in flesh, whispering tones
to catch a glance of
adjacent to the beauty
left, hasten the tears
falling in tissue basin
journey, stories written
savor, memories printed
depart, love ascended
Wednesday, April 23, 2014
Pasture dragons
wavy tentacles reaching
out of Hades depths
hugging the earth in a
crown of thorns when
winter has its way
crown ascends to
royal purple in spiky
powder puffs where
stinging bees drink
as much as they please
silvery adulterated
emerald flesh laden
in silky hairs a spider
must have spun unseen
obscene a torturous
structure of spines
in slight windy twist
a flailing of damned
arms, legs, and tongues
earthbound dragon
with ravenous appetite
of blood for those
who pass by too closely
gnarled thorny
lizard who sends its
spawn in a breezy yawn
with tiny wings it
only dreamed of
out of Hades depths
hugging the earth in a
crown of thorns when
winter has its way
crown ascends to
royal purple in spiky
powder puffs where
stinging bees drink
as much as they please
silvery adulterated
emerald flesh laden
in silky hairs a spider
must have spun unseen
obscene a torturous
structure of spines
in slight windy twist
a flailing of damned
arms, legs, and tongues
earthbound dragon
with ravenous appetite
of blood for those
who pass by too closely
gnarled thorny
lizard who sends its
spawn in a breezy yawn
with tiny wings it
only dreamed of
Monday, April 21, 2014
Jargon jaunting: part possibili-pea
simply dressed seed
in botanical tweed
signifying its breed
and herbaceous creed
be it a tiny creeper
a run-about peeper
a high-stepping leaper
or a stand-alone weeper
then perhaps a giant
much too tall and defiant
becoming tipsy and reliant
on yet another giant
whatever it might be
it's surely a possibili-pea
when a gardener on knee
takes to the earth a plea
this of course after the snow
and when south winds blow
does the gardener till the dough
in hope that a plant might grow
so it's rather simple to see
any size from teeny to lofty tree
can come from gardening glee
when planting a possibili-pea
in botanical tweed
signifying its breed
and herbaceous creed
be it a tiny creeper
a run-about peeper
a high-stepping leaper
or a stand-alone weeper
then perhaps a giant
much too tall and defiant
becoming tipsy and reliant
on yet another giant
whatever it might be
it's surely a possibili-pea
when a gardener on knee
takes to the earth a plea
this of course after the snow
and when south winds blow
does the gardener till the dough
in hope that a plant might grow
so it's rather simple to see
any size from teeny to lofty tree
can come from gardening glee
when planting a possibili-pea
Saturday, April 19, 2014
The lilac now left behind
only down forgotten roads
this floral sentinel will find
overgrown grassy yard and
the lilac now left behind
absent windows in stone
open to the passing of time
a home still fenced in by
the lilac now left behind
Henry's bushels of wheat
and Anna's mulberry wine
sold to purchase what is
the lilac now left behind
young hands took blooms
for MayDay baskets to line
yearly harvested from
the lilac now left behind
weary lives led to know
how love is truly defined
lives still blooming in
the lilac now left behind
generations have come and
gone abandoning their kind
for memorial it remains
the lilac now left behind
this floral sentinel will find
overgrown grassy yard and
the lilac now left behind
absent windows in stone
open to the passing of time
a home still fenced in by
the lilac now left behind
Henry's bushels of wheat
and Anna's mulberry wine
sold to purchase what is
the lilac now left behind
young hands took blooms
for MayDay baskets to line
yearly harvested from
the lilac now left behind
weary lives led to know
how love is truly defined
lives still blooming in
the lilac now left behind
generations have come and
gone abandoning their kind
for memorial it remains
the lilac now left behind
Friday, April 18, 2014
Fallow fellow
a wind in the mouth
of a grinning field
rolling around the
old man's lips, smoke
spiraling down draws
teeth have already
chewed the crust
so that other smaller
teeth may chew
another baked crust
no crust be made
though if those grays
and whites won't
let loose the reigns
and roll out the dough
dough of the wiggles
that nibble the crust
making sure crusted
hands' work don't go
bust later in the dust
that wind rolls round
on chewed up crust
a field steaming in
mornings full of
wishing, wanting, lust
of a grinning field
rolling around the
old man's lips, smoke
spiraling down draws
teeth have already
chewed the crust
so that other smaller
teeth may chew
another baked crust
no crust be made
though if those grays
and whites won't
let loose the reigns
and roll out the dough
dough of the wiggles
that nibble the crust
making sure crusted
hands' work don't go
bust later in the dust
that wind rolls round
on chewed up crust
a field steaming in
mornings full of
wishing, wanting, lust
Thursday, April 17, 2014
Trees seven
on the isles of Celtic seas the seven sacred trees
oddly the alder with damp feet
catkins sweet to stirring bees
short marsh trees that do all
but bleed when met with blade
their white wood red betrayed
for Bran's robes they don
as purple crows royal as swan
in fair-maiden kin the birch's twin
apple fruits long the pursuits
of fae and men and serpent sin
to bear the soul to lead the way
to mark lover's grave on rainy day
and feed for full a month or more
yet crave for the fairy adore
in older tongue twas uball or afal
save one in the tree for the man of apple
better you than me to bless the
yew tree and guess what we'll see
in midnight roads croaking of toads
and stools neigh sleep, the roots do creep
of immortal arms and limbs to
measure mortal men's masks or whims
of a divination clash, a Wednesday
for the ash too sacred to slash
with axe's blade dared not to swing
with thorn and oak it was triad king
and two of a kind be the berried to find
then fend off the fae with flowers of May
yet seed pods have found keys to fairy mound
hazel as alder and elder you'll see
not a mighty towering tree, yet it may be
the tree of life and nut of the wise
all be this in a dwarf shrubbery guise
to divine water forked hazels will totter
too, sacred to the poet, aye don't I know it
thus the elder as well, no great height to tell
but many times rich it be the form of a witch
and laden with sweet blooms and berries
if growing alone more than likely the fairies'
the last tree to invoke of course is the oak
a mighty spoke in the turning wheel of life
its flowers helped create a warrior's wife
Daron's devotees under oaks aimed to please
and mistletoe and two white bulls were slain
in its presence for fertile ground and rain
the fairy folks love old oaks, ash and thorn the three
on the isles of Celtic seas the seven sacred trees
oddly the alder with damp feet
catkins sweet to stirring bees
short marsh trees that do all
but bleed when met with blade
their white wood red betrayed
for Bran's robes they don
as purple crows royal as swan
in fair-maiden kin the birch's twin
apple fruits long the pursuits
of fae and men and serpent sin
to bear the soul to lead the way
to mark lover's grave on rainy day
and feed for full a month or more
yet crave for the fairy adore
in older tongue twas uball or afal
save one in the tree for the man of apple
better you than me to bless the
yew tree and guess what we'll see
in midnight roads croaking of toads
and stools neigh sleep, the roots do creep
of immortal arms and limbs to
measure mortal men's masks or whims
of a divination clash, a Wednesday
for the ash too sacred to slash
with axe's blade dared not to swing
with thorn and oak it was triad king
and two of a kind be the berried to find
then fend off the fae with flowers of May
yet seed pods have found keys to fairy mound
hazel as alder and elder you'll see
not a mighty towering tree, yet it may be
the tree of life and nut of the wise
all be this in a dwarf shrubbery guise
to divine water forked hazels will totter
too, sacred to the poet, aye don't I know it
thus the elder as well, no great height to tell
but many times rich it be the form of a witch
and laden with sweet blooms and berries
if growing alone more than likely the fairies'
the last tree to invoke of course is the oak
a mighty spoke in the turning wheel of life
its flowers helped create a warrior's wife
Daron's devotees under oaks aimed to please
and mistletoe and two white bulls were slain
in its presence for fertile ground and rain
the fairy folks love old oaks, ash and thorn the three
on the isles of Celtic seas the seven sacred trees
Wednesday, April 16, 2014
The knave
promise of fruits
in swollen stem tips
promise spoken from
twitching blue lips
kisses from bitches
dressed in lacy white
who can't stay within
their Decembering night
yet a knight's needed
to slay the frigid stay
stab and jab and draw
the blinds of a warm day
but only can be found
a barking dog of a knave
to take from the people
what is sure as the grave
different is the green
the knave searches for
far from what grows
on the shaded forest floor
still a different green's
found within the knave's eyes
the same of the dead
ruled by the lord of flies
lives lavish the knave
with trees of hollow trunks
in company of either or
drunks or monks or skunks
for this forest, these trees
gnarl and twist to please
but blossom with toxins
to obliterate working bees
promise of fruits hidden
within the sticky ends
promise frozen burnt
by the knave and his friends
in swollen stem tips
promise spoken from
twitching blue lips
kisses from bitches
dressed in lacy white
who can't stay within
their Decembering night
yet a knight's needed
to slay the frigid stay
stab and jab and draw
the blinds of a warm day
but only can be found
a barking dog of a knave
to take from the people
what is sure as the grave
different is the green
the knave searches for
far from what grows
on the shaded forest floor
still a different green's
found within the knave's eyes
the same of the dead
ruled by the lord of flies
lives lavish the knave
with trees of hollow trunks
in company of either or
drunks or monks or skunks
for this forest, these trees
gnarl and twist to please
but blossom with toxins
to obliterate working bees
promise of fruits hidden
within the sticky ends
promise frozen burnt
by the knave and his friends
Monday, April 14, 2014
Fleurotica
unearthed desires
yellow crimson fires
exposed in full to
lure to haunt to
pray in meadow
sweet sweat
exhumed choir
tempting crier
echoing over dell
in floating breeze
in waking bees
in seductive tease
blatantly bred
carnal colors wed
dusty anthers tickle
taunt exuding pistils
trickles honey crystals
within memories of
polar winds and
southern solar trends
the twins to lead
the bull to fertile
green and his
blooming brides
proliferation crowns
adorn the heights and
grounds for sipping,
for sniffing, for plucking
yellow crimson fires
exposed in full to
lure to haunt to
pray in meadow
sweet sweat
exhumed choir
tempting crier
echoing over dell
in floating breeze
in waking bees
in seductive tease
blatantly bred
carnal colors wed
dusty anthers tickle
taunt exuding pistils
trickles honey crystals
within memories of
polar winds and
southern solar trends
the twins to lead
the bull to fertile
green and his
blooming brides
proliferation crowns
adorn the heights and
grounds for sipping,
for sniffing, for plucking
Sunday, April 13, 2014
Tree rouse
what eager waits
under weathered
facade now enriched
with coursing memories
returned the sun
that rises in the
subterranean sky
on its memorial course
a play on worlds
of seen and missed
from light reaching in
to soak up and drench
through twining
routes flaring cells
flash to fall within both
harbored heavens and hells
chambers tumble
in tunneled path
where giants had suckled
fumes and volcanic wrath
blushes warmth
the winter bleached
when once receded stars
again shine bright branches
and birth the bloom
from dripping wax
in rejoicing revelry days
the frozen reign has passed
under weathered
facade now enriched
with coursing memories
returned the sun
that rises in the
subterranean sky
on its memorial course
a play on worlds
of seen and missed
from light reaching in
to soak up and drench
through twining
routes flaring cells
flash to fall within both
harbored heavens and hells
chambers tumble
in tunneled path
where giants had suckled
fumes and volcanic wrath
blushes warmth
the winter bleached
when once receded stars
again shine bright branches
and birth the bloom
from dripping wax
in rejoicing revelry days
the frozen reign has passed
Saturday, April 12, 2014
Spring rose
gold faded
copper tan and
dusky silver hair
fallen from fair
arms that have
prayed through
frozen words
and absent birds
risen from fallen
hair, youth of
new yet known
seeds already
sown before
within the floor
lifting hands
young in what
the birds have
sung or sing
beyond winter
icy sting
fragile meek
and mild, the
wilds speak in
green crisp
tongues of
the old turned
new once more
copper tan and
dusky silver hair
fallen from fair
arms that have
prayed through
frozen words
and absent birds
risen from fallen
hair, youth of
new yet known
seeds already
sown before
within the floor
lifting hands
young in what
the birds have
sung or sing
beyond winter
icy sting
fragile meek
and mild, the
wilds speak in
green crisp
tongues of
the old turned
new once more
Friday, April 11, 2014
April's song
whistle when
the April wind
in evening calm
and rising dawn
birds of black
and others back
chatter tunes
morns to noons
yet in the night
and quiet quite
the still is still
no buggy trill
so on what beast
these birds will feast
whatever wiggles
muddy squiggles
hop-a-long
robin in lawn
a look bygone
of dino spawn
a peck of that
after winter fat
gone more to thin
in April wind
the April wind
in evening calm
and rising dawn
birds of black
and others back
chatter tunes
morns to noons
yet in the night
and quiet quite
the still is still
no buggy trill
so on what beast
these birds will feast
whatever wiggles
muddy squiggles
hop-a-long
robin in lawn
a look bygone
of dino spawn
a peck of that
after winter fat
gone more to thin
in April wind
Thursday, April 10, 2014
Lady in a spotted dress
little lady
spotted dress
yawn from slumber
awake to this
dancing atop
cobalt stage
orange and onyx
a winged cape cage
little lady
silver stems
faded azure
papery gems
threshing about
bundled birth
scattered across
freshly turned earth
little lady
large bright eyes
into the spring
away she flies
spotted dress
yawn from slumber
awake to this
dancing atop
cobalt stage
orange and onyx
a winged cape cage
little lady
silver stems
faded azure
papery gems
threshing about
bundled birth
scattered across
freshly turned earth
little lady
large bright eyes
into the spring
away she flies
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
How the rabbit got his eggs
there was a squirrely rabbit
who stole the robin's eggs
he jumped away like lightning
on his bouncing furry legs
and took the colored eggs
over to some poor lad's front stoop
no sign was left of his theft
'cept for his jellybean poop
hippy hop aaaay
hippy hop ohhhh
bunny did a noooo no
the robin squawked at the
sight of her vacated nest
she signaled for the falcon
to search for the arrest
and bulletins were sounded
out via busy beaver tail
if the robber rabbit hadn't fled
they would've roasted him in jail
hippy hop aaaay
hippy hop yeeee
where's bunny... we'll see
the rabbit sprinted over
to the chocolate factory
and tried to hide inside a
giant vat of sweet honey
but lacking brains he stuck
himself onto the assembly line
after going through the cocoa
flow his flavor was divine
hippy hop aaaay
hippy hop yeeee
no more thieving bunny
hippy hop aaaay
hippy hop yeeee
let's eat a chocolate... bun-ny
who stole the robin's eggs
he jumped away like lightning
on his bouncing furry legs
and took the colored eggs
over to some poor lad's front stoop
no sign was left of his theft
'cept for his jellybean poop
hippy hop aaaay
hippy hop ohhhh
bunny did a noooo no
the robin squawked at the
sight of her vacated nest
she signaled for the falcon
to search for the arrest
and bulletins were sounded
out via busy beaver tail
if the robber rabbit hadn't fled
they would've roasted him in jail
hippy hop aaaay
hippy hop yeeee
where's bunny... we'll see
the rabbit sprinted over
to the chocolate factory
and tried to hide inside a
giant vat of sweet honey
but lacking brains he stuck
himself onto the assembly line
after going through the cocoa
flow his flavor was divine
hippy hop aaaay
hippy hop yeeee
no more thieving bunny
hippy hop aaaay
hippy hop yeeee
let's eat a chocolate... bun-ny
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
Head 'n clouds
foolish fancies rise
in sun baked days
and daze the sphere
above, below, around
fanciful fires that
feed voracious vapor
firing cylinders of
ascending image engines
for flight through
billowing white balloons
cylindrical elevations
swell in an electric field
elevating spark arcs
in whirling steam,
coiling lobes and
drifting cerebral fruits
sparking breaking
stores, birthing downpours
breaking heat of
aging days and ways
to see, to wish and
want, to...
in sun baked days
and daze the sphere
above, below, around
fanciful fires that
feed voracious vapor
firing cylinders of
ascending image engines
for flight through
billowing white balloons
cylindrical elevations
swell in an electric field
elevating spark arcs
in whirling steam,
coiling lobes and
drifting cerebral fruits
sparking breaking
stores, birthing downpours
breaking heat of
aging days and ways
to see, to wish and
want, to...
Monday, April 7, 2014
Planting the canvas
clawing away death
of a season best served sold
what had died in faded
gold, insulation from the cold
digging into a blank soiled canvas
where writhes the production
of new buried in layered
pages of bygone life
blades dig deep
as talons scratch surfaces
left bare in between
islands of promise green
and the pages flip
back and forth in the tome
soon a tomb where
the unseen follower revels
in a grassy facade
or perhaps futures have
slowed their pace instead
and rabbit steps bound
in a second layer of a
summer not yet burned
roots coil within
what flowers are and
will slither out into what
leaves and stems have become
soiled canvas lays
stark and still yet stirs under
sepia, taupe, withered gray
shiny white and yellow
drawn to bleed green
and speckled hues
of a season best served sold
what had died in faded
gold, insulation from the cold
digging into a blank soiled canvas
where writhes the production
of new buried in layered
pages of bygone life
blades dig deep
as talons scratch surfaces
left bare in between
islands of promise green
and the pages flip
back and forth in the tome
soon a tomb where
the unseen follower revels
in a grassy facade
or perhaps futures have
slowed their pace instead
and rabbit steps bound
in a second layer of a
summer not yet burned
roots coil within
what flowers are and
will slither out into what
leaves and stems have become
soiled canvas lays
stark and still yet stirs under
sepia, taupe, withered gray
shiny white and yellow
drawn to bleed green
and speckled hues
Sunday, April 6, 2014
Fair-wooded friends
rivers flowing to the sky
rivers stretch and sigh
when winds pass by
flowing into dome or bowl
pouring out the buried soul
rivers frozen now release
steady paces now increase
bringing still to cease
frozen wintered weathered veins
hailing back the warmer rains
rivers slowly yawn to wake
in the soil their beds to make
and the riches do take
slowly unfurl the green in hand
to cast a shadow across the land
rivers holding nests above
cradling the young thereof
nurtured nature sort of
holding nests, young and eggs
massive arms over buried legs
rivers flowing to the sky
reach the stars so they try
though I wonder why
rivers stretch and sigh
when winds pass by
flowing into dome or bowl
pouring out the buried soul
rivers frozen now release
steady paces now increase
bringing still to cease
frozen wintered weathered veins
hailing back the warmer rains
rivers slowly yawn to wake
in the soil their beds to make
and the riches do take
slowly unfurl the green in hand
to cast a shadow across the land
rivers holding nests above
cradling the young thereof
nurtured nature sort of
holding nests, young and eggs
massive arms over buried legs
rivers flowing to the sky
reach the stars so they try
though I wonder why
Saturday, April 5, 2014
Resurrection
raising from frozen
stale graves
green hands stretch
to sunlight
to southern breezes
to hungry rodent teeth
resurrected thoughts
in reverse manner
ideas now hover
over buried bulbs
glowing for none
to see
to read by
to turn off
but lights do rise
and colors do shine
when lips
open and speak
to whisper
to greatly shout
to gently kiss
in darkened chill
in growing days
silken dress
bow with airs
to dance
to scatter alms
to acquire one more year
stale graves
green hands stretch
to sunlight
to southern breezes
to hungry rodent teeth
resurrected thoughts
in reverse manner
ideas now hover
over buried bulbs
glowing for none
to see
to read by
to turn off
but lights do rise
and colors do shine
when lips
open and speak
to whisper
to greatly shout
to gently kiss
in darkened chill
in growing days
silken dress
bow with airs
to dance
to scatter alms
to acquire one more year
Friday, April 4, 2014
Heaven on a stick
having heaven,
even heaven on a stick,
such a treat but a trick
merely moments,
molten memories melting
in the heated thoughts
of how heaven was found
crafted wings for those
wanting heights wane in
wax and tumble to ground
shells of shattered souls
are peeled by feeble hands,
tossing hues to foreign lands
what is left, all the
theft could or would not
carry and hadn't the time
to terry for an early thaw
thus heights and shaded
shells, which many find at
sales or in abandoned wells,
are closer to granted hells
having heaven,
even heaven on a stick,
what will one someday pick
even heaven on a stick,
such a treat but a trick
merely moments,
molten memories melting
in the heated thoughts
of how heaven was found
crafted wings for those
wanting heights wane in
wax and tumble to ground
shells of shattered souls
are peeled by feeble hands,
tossing hues to foreign lands
what is left, all the
theft could or would not
carry and hadn't the time
to terry for an early thaw
thus heights and shaded
shells, which many find at
sales or in abandoned wells,
are closer to granted hells
having heaven,
even heaven on a stick,
what will one someday pick
Thursday, April 3, 2014
Jargon jaunting: part moles
wordy whisk, wicked wish
off tongues of troubled souls
impish limps, wimpy scrimps
of lives lived in tunneled holes
the moles...
drolly trolls pulling tolls
of grubby buggy wormy pests
fruiting roots, booty shoots
plate the bait for feasting fests
of moles
sightly light quite a fright
for eyeless pilous scratchers
mounded ground, drown the crown
flooded blood of spud snatches
the moles!
off tongues of troubled souls
impish limps, wimpy scrimps
of lives lived in tunneled holes
the moles...
drolly trolls pulling tolls
of grubby buggy wormy pests
fruiting roots, booty shoots
plate the bait for feasting fests
of moles
sightly light quite a fright
for eyeless pilous scratchers
mounded ground, drown the crown
flooded blood of spud snatches
the moles!
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
Leafovers
whence solace solar light
lining paths in polar night
withered resurrected leaves
tousled jostled premature fossils
in blades of eager sleep
each rustle, every tussle blown
tears asunder the fragments thrown
frosted lips of an earthen mouth
are showered by those who once towered
clay palette waits, wants early thaw
with ever-present and inescapable draw
sooner than June or even break of May
flow will fall upon limber toiled soil
a dirty grin will claim again its own...
the seeds, the deeds and the fragments thrown
lining paths in polar night
withered resurrected leaves
tousled jostled premature fossils
in blades of eager sleep
each rustle, every tussle blown
tears asunder the fragments thrown
frosted lips of an earthen mouth
are showered by those who once towered
clay palette waits, wants early thaw
with ever-present and inescapable draw
sooner than June or even break of May
flow will fall upon limber toiled soil
a dirty grin will claim again its own...
the seeds, the deeds and the fragments thrown
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
First of fools
the hee hee ha forte
idiots unite for your day
when pete's sake & lordy
lordy lord cannot afford
to pay a pence for
certain recompense of
a jolly folly joke
be it from she or a bloke
they all have their way
a month away from May
for wind has gone
or is going by the side
taking chill of bone
from the entire outside
and pedal here for
a petal there in drops
and hops, a bit after
for wee begs of dyed
and boiled eggs though
not always in April days
thus sit and wait in
nonsensical debate
for tweedles did and
do perhaps persuading...
you or two in the
icy dew of a day owing:
to those of little knowing
to that in rain or snowing
to dead calm or windy blowing
alright alright, I'm going
going to fervent verdant fields
forsaken and forgotten by fools
idiots unite for your day
when pete's sake & lordy
lordy lord cannot afford
to pay a pence for
certain recompense of
a jolly folly joke
be it from she or a bloke
they all have their way
a month away from May
for wind has gone
or is going by the side
taking chill of bone
from the entire outside
and pedal here for
a petal there in drops
and hops, a bit after
for wee begs of dyed
and boiled eggs though
not always in April days
thus sit and wait in
nonsensical debate
for tweedles did and
do perhaps persuading...
you or two in the
icy dew of a day owing:
to those of little knowing
to that in rain or snowing
to dead calm or windy blowing
alright alright, I'm going
going to fervent verdant fields
forsaken and forgotten by fools
Monday, March 31, 2014
Moth in bloom
simply the lunar wheel
drifting in the stellar sea
far from its former
half-eaten halo parades
when the wheel has waxed
its all it beckons call and
tempts my chest to unfold
you hover in the anxious
heated evenings, suffering
the steamy days ends to
partake in what I have offered
you bide your time in
whirling laps around my
sanctum as I arise in the
encroaching night's splendor
the sun barely touches my
ethereal skin through the
magic of the moon's mirror
I release my essence into
the darkened air and succumb
to your impetuous raps at
my chamber door
you nestle within the
core of my existence
overcome by the magnitude
of the carnal feast I serve
drinking me in, your
intoxication is complete
with every breath you draw
you inhale my soul in whole
sip from my chalice
indulgent, essential nectar
with the pulse of a victim
escaping its last breath
in the moon's gluttony
bask in your own
and slowly slip into the
silk laden cosmos I
unfurled before you
drifting in the stellar sea
far from its former
half-eaten halo parades
when the wheel has waxed
its all it beckons call and
tempts my chest to unfold
you hover in the anxious
heated evenings, suffering
the steamy days ends to
partake in what I have offered
you bide your time in
whirling laps around my
sanctum as I arise in the
encroaching night's splendor
the sun barely touches my
ethereal skin through the
magic of the moon's mirror
I release my essence into
the darkened air and succumb
to your impetuous raps at
my chamber door
you nestle within the
core of my existence
overcome by the magnitude
of the carnal feast I serve
drinking me in, your
intoxication is complete
with every breath you draw
you inhale my soul in whole
sip from my chalice
indulgent, essential nectar
with the pulse of a victim
escaping its last breath
in the moon's gluttony
bask in your own
and slowly slip into the
silk laden cosmos I
unfurled before you
Tuesday, March 25, 2014
To come upon the Earth
bones stained of
the color they were
in days of fruits,
first flowers lure,
lure of fleur in
color released
of stained bones
known the home
that shelters pulse
and quickens and
jolts to quake the
shell, to shatter and
break the hell of a
home once known
savior of brine
stirring waters where
birth choked former
present ways of eggs
and cells, the colder
jars and cellars full
of brine to save
made the raft
in salty grit and
silty laps upon a
shore, body born
and worn for mere
moments in current
torrents for which
the raft was made
and time was bade
for barking dogs,
the bottomless hogs
who knew not past
nose in giving those
the days, the praise
in buying back what's
bade for time
too, moments lost
amidst raging waves
swallowing holocausts
drowning to digest
the sacrifice to bear
any heartbeats to spare
and pay for the short-lived
stay, a refund for that
lost to moments
the color they were
in days of fruits,
first flowers lure,
lure of fleur in
color released
of stained bones
known the home
that shelters pulse
and quickens and
jolts to quake the
shell, to shatter and
break the hell of a
home once known
savior of brine
stirring waters where
birth choked former
present ways of eggs
and cells, the colder
jars and cellars full
of brine to save
made the raft
in salty grit and
silty laps upon a
shore, body born
and worn for mere
moments in current
torrents for which
the raft was made
and time was bade
for barking dogs,
the bottomless hogs
who knew not past
nose in giving those
the days, the praise
in buying back what's
bade for time
too, moments lost
amidst raging waves
swallowing holocausts
drowning to digest
the sacrifice to bear
any heartbeats to spare
and pay for the short-lived
stay, a refund for that
lost to moments
Friday, March 21, 2014
Don't stop Belize-ing
searching, sniffing
bloodhound for expertise
on how to purchase
land located in Belize
France can keep all
its frilly fleur de lis
and let California have
its giant redwood trees
I can ignore the Swiss
chocolate and their cheese
and all the Dutch flowers
will only make me sneeze
for it's a life of sun and
sand and full of ease
that I'm seeking in
a quiet abode in Belize
I look for the day with
a warm gentle breeze
and when the sun sets
the night doesn't freeze
must I humbly bow
low and drop to my knees
pleading and begging
"Pretty, pretty, PUH-LEASE!"
is it the Mayans or Queen
Mum who I must appease
to find a home in the
beautiful coasts of Belize
bloodhound for expertise
on how to purchase
land located in Belize
France can keep all
its frilly fleur de lis
and let California have
its giant redwood trees
I can ignore the Swiss
chocolate and their cheese
and all the Dutch flowers
will only make me sneeze
for it's a life of sun and
sand and full of ease
that I'm seeking in
a quiet abode in Belize
I look for the day with
a warm gentle breeze
and when the sun sets
the night doesn't freeze
must I humbly bow
low and drop to my knees
pleading and begging
"Pretty, pretty, PUH-LEASE!"
is it the Mayans or Queen
Mum who I must appease
to find a home in the
beautiful coasts of Belize
Sunday, March 9, 2014
In the letting go
watercolor saints pool
within folded hands
Jude transfigured
in a Judas glance
knees know well
to bend, replacing
feet for burden bear
and bones scrape
bones where once
a cushioned tissue
wore asunder
fingertips have lost
a steady pace in
grappling over tiny
orbs pierced by
liturgical links
cinders send
frankincense to
heavenly heights
mockingbirds of
a sinner lofting
prayers that way too
ritual rites are lost
in the depths of loss
and plummet into
the abyss the emptied
vessel laying before
all was poured into
blurred is what is
spoken an hour and
a day ago, giving
way to clarity of
a first dance and kiss
...the moments missed
and now sting when
sleeping alone or
fumbling with a ring
and almost heard
are the angels when
they sing, then
again it comes from
the loft in the back
and earth is still here
within folded hands
Jude transfigured
in a Judas glance
knees know well
to bend, replacing
feet for burden bear
and bones scrape
bones where once
a cushioned tissue
wore asunder
fingertips have lost
a steady pace in
grappling over tiny
orbs pierced by
liturgical links
cinders send
frankincense to
heavenly heights
mockingbirds of
a sinner lofting
prayers that way too
ritual rites are lost
in the depths of loss
and plummet into
the abyss the emptied
vessel laying before
all was poured into
blurred is what is
spoken an hour and
a day ago, giving
way to clarity of
a first dance and kiss
...the moments missed
and now sting when
sleeping alone or
fumbling with a ring
and almost heard
are the angels when
they sing, then
again it comes from
the loft in the back
and earth is still here
Tuesday, February 25, 2014
Jargon jaunting: part B
the jinx on the mountain,
certainly reveled in hijinks
thunderous boom!
indeed did that loom
in the form of an
elegant elephant
pray, it was a
lack, to confirm,
to have fear of
this pachyderm
rather it was surely
a jinx of other breed
a wild hare or steed
perhaps sparked the
stampede of hoof
and paw, foot and claw
thus it was an avalanche
without a branch
to cause a stanch
to falling fur and
feather and scales and
shells and whether
or not they, the bees,
did as they please
above the trembling
trees, it has to be said:
they clearly caused
the dread in each and
every animal head of
a malevolent force,
besides the obvious horse,
which sourced the course
of the rumble and stumble
and then the... tumble
and eventual... bumble
of the beastly jumble
but the tiny bees,
yet not quite as tiny
as fleas, continued
on with their tease
for they evaded the
blame and guilt was
pinned to another name
for after the calamitous
plummet from the
high advantageous
summit remained only
one animal from... it
there with crossed legs
elegant sat the prim and
proper elephant with jars
of jam tucked snugly
in a push or pull pram
the bees hissed so and
the geese and snakes too
and it seemed as though
the rest of the throng
yelled out a loud boo!
regardless of the noise
and shouts hurled at
the seated elephant
the long trunk rose
above and served as
its own celebrant
of course the proof
was not in the pudding
as this case found some
place else for its footing
the evidence was obvious
unbeknownst to the rest of
us, there the elephant, sitting
most elegant, was dressed
from head to knee in a suit
colored as, you guessed it, a bee
and found in the pram were
not little jars of jam but rather
filled instead with honey and
on their way to be sold for money
yes the elephant wore black and
yellow stripes, but soon that would
be traded for black and white
as the pachyderm, with the help
of a law firm, was soon to serve
a rather lengthy prison term
it was found as well,
consequently while the
elephant was in jail, a
little needle that had
a tale to tell or even yell
for that is what it led to
when it was stuck in
the red backside of
one Mr. Blabby Baboon
and that first yelp of wild
pleading for help infected
the crowd with a whelp
the needle that told this
much told more after a
touch for a toe print was
found from such... a touch
thus it was found from the
needle off the ground that
the elephant's guilt abound
and instead of money
from stolen honey the
pachyderm, in a very
certain term, was far
from living free for
falsely impersonating and
criminal theft of a bee
certainly reveled in hijinks
thunderous boom!
indeed did that loom
in the form of an
elegant elephant
pray, it was a
lack, to confirm,
to have fear of
this pachyderm
rather it was surely
a jinx of other breed
a wild hare or steed
perhaps sparked the
stampede of hoof
and paw, foot and claw
thus it was an avalanche
without a branch
to cause a stanch
to falling fur and
feather and scales and
shells and whether
or not they, the bees,
did as they please
above the trembling
trees, it has to be said:
they clearly caused
the dread in each and
every animal head of
a malevolent force,
besides the obvious horse,
which sourced the course
of the rumble and stumble
and then the... tumble
and eventual... bumble
of the beastly jumble
but the tiny bees,
yet not quite as tiny
as fleas, continued
on with their tease
for they evaded the
blame and guilt was
pinned to another name
for after the calamitous
plummet from the
high advantageous
summit remained only
one animal from... it
there with crossed legs
elegant sat the prim and
proper elephant with jars
of jam tucked snugly
in a push or pull pram
the bees hissed so and
the geese and snakes too
and it seemed as though
the rest of the throng
yelled out a loud boo!
regardless of the noise
and shouts hurled at
the seated elephant
the long trunk rose
above and served as
its own celebrant
of course the proof
was not in the pudding
as this case found some
place else for its footing
the evidence was obvious
unbeknownst to the rest of
us, there the elephant, sitting
most elegant, was dressed
from head to knee in a suit
colored as, you guessed it, a bee
and found in the pram were
not little jars of jam but rather
filled instead with honey and
on their way to be sold for money
yes the elephant wore black and
yellow stripes, but soon that would
be traded for black and white
as the pachyderm, with the help
of a law firm, was soon to serve
a rather lengthy prison term
it was found as well,
consequently while the
elephant was in jail, a
little needle that had
a tale to tell or even yell
for that is what it led to
when it was stuck in
the red backside of
one Mr. Blabby Baboon
and that first yelp of wild
pleading for help infected
the crowd with a whelp
the needle that told this
much told more after a
touch for a toe print was
found from such... a touch
thus it was found from the
needle off the ground that
the elephant's guilt abound
and instead of money
from stolen honey the
pachyderm, in a very
certain term, was far
from living free for
falsely impersonating and
criminal theft of a bee
Barren treasure tree
fragments of the outcasts...
shards of iron and of glass
littered among the dust
in trodden mud and
quenched cellular earth
chains to tow now loose
links buried in the snow
earthen branches sprawl
weaving the net to catch
these artifacts in time
mechanical bones, broken
vessels the holy relics
for the amassing graves
fenced in by weathered
wooden arms and claws
droughts and gully washes
play chess and move
their pieces around the squares
these gaming forces hold
the keys of crusted chests
and in the sinking sun
when loving lies are spun
sparkle the paths of past
the paths that resurrect
metallic inventions that
man has no decision for
hallowed rust to dust is
swallowed in a windy gust
then forgotten evermore
shards of iron and of glass
littered among the dust
in trodden mud and
quenched cellular earth
chains to tow now loose
links buried in the snow
earthen branches sprawl
weaving the net to catch
these artifacts in time
mechanical bones, broken
vessels the holy relics
for the amassing graves
fenced in by weathered
wooden arms and claws
droughts and gully washes
play chess and move
their pieces around the squares
these gaming forces hold
the keys of crusted chests
and in the sinking sun
when loving lies are spun
sparkle the paths of past
the paths that resurrect
metallic inventions that
man has no decision for
hallowed rust to dust is
swallowed in a windy gust
then forgotten evermore
Friday, February 21, 2014
The elders
is it the sun's grip
on the limbs of trees
is it the longer shadows
that guide me to a past
I rarely know now
winds of last night
beckoned me in my
sleep to places my
bare feet once touched
to the waters my
bones, flesh and blood
had arrived too late to
to the restless grains
of sand that danced
when zephyrs stirred
the waters of the sky
to the thirsty roots
that grew like forests
inside the torrid land
and sometimes found
themselves exposed
and gnarled and weary
the scattered remains
of gray giants littered
those restless hills and
were fodder for them
and relentless wind
beneath their armor
the giants bore silky
bleached bodies of
which my fingertips
could not ignore
between their flesh
and armor was an
ethereal silky tomb
which housed the elder
gods in aged cocoons
from their bodies
coiled the veins of
reverence or guilt
there was abandoned
Eden with its renounced
splendor and ambrosia
I dared not to resist
my feet became their
roots and snaked into
the cool damp below
and my back arched
in the current gliding
through the slender grass
the bones, flesh and blood
too late for the waters
I still long to breathe,
these were their device
they dreamt of long
before they drifted from
their parents in the wind
they uprooted me and
did as their parents did
casting me out into
the late August wind
and I was lost to them
on the limbs of trees
is it the longer shadows
that guide me to a past
I rarely know now
winds of last night
beckoned me in my
sleep to places my
bare feet once touched
to the waters my
bones, flesh and blood
had arrived too late to
to the restless grains
of sand that danced
when zephyrs stirred
the waters of the sky
to the thirsty roots
that grew like forests
inside the torrid land
and sometimes found
themselves exposed
and gnarled and weary
the scattered remains
of gray giants littered
those restless hills and
were fodder for them
and relentless wind
beneath their armor
the giants bore silky
bleached bodies of
which my fingertips
could not ignore
between their flesh
and armor was an
ethereal silky tomb
which housed the elder
gods in aged cocoons
from their bodies
coiled the veins of
reverence or guilt
there was abandoned
Eden with its renounced
splendor and ambrosia
I dared not to resist
my feet became their
roots and snaked into
the cool damp below
and my back arched
in the current gliding
through the slender grass
the bones, flesh and blood
too late for the waters
I still long to breathe,
these were their device
they dreamt of long
before they drifted from
their parents in the wind
they uprooted me and
did as their parents did
casting me out into
the late August wind
and I was lost to them
Take a gander
a gobbling gander
flaps and flops in
gibbering style
he thinks to make
up his offensive
jabs with a smile
but a fowl's foul
is always most foul
when armed with a jest
and what's worse
is his march and
protruded proud chest
yet he's unaware
or so he futilely
attempts to explain
that any of his
petty, pointless actions
are made in vain
waddle and sway
but still keeping his
head high on neck
he's unseeing of
his path that he's marked
with many a speck
thus one can
at all times see where
the gander has gone
of course the
gander's no bird
I'm sure you caught on
flaps and flops in
gibbering style
he thinks to make
up his offensive
jabs with a smile
but a fowl's foul
is always most foul
when armed with a jest
and what's worse
is his march and
protruded proud chest
yet he's unaware
or so he futilely
attempts to explain
that any of his
petty, pointless actions
are made in vain
waddle and sway
but still keeping his
head high on neck
he's unseeing of
his path that he's marked
with many a speck
thus one can
at all times see where
the gander has gone
of course the
gander's no bird
I'm sure you caught on
Monday, February 17, 2014
Tomorrow, last year
tomorrow, last year
your voice thawed
my still heart
a breath held for
a lifetime was released
into what I said
and tomorrow, last year
you reached through
the veil to touch me
to waken what had
overslept deep within
my soul's lonely bed
our hearts recognized
what our eyes could not
they heard what our ears
dismissed and discerned
what our lips failed to explain
tomorrow, last year
stripped away the
shields we held
little safety we
wielded to bear the
pain of the past
for tomorrow, last year
we didn't need
shelter from the rain
the refuge we had
sought we had found
in each other at last
your voice thawed
my still heart
a breath held for
a lifetime was released
into what I said
and tomorrow, last year
you reached through
the veil to touch me
to waken what had
overslept deep within
my soul's lonely bed
our hearts recognized
what our eyes could not
they heard what our ears
dismissed and discerned
what our lips failed to explain
tomorrow, last year
stripped away the
shields we held
little safety we
wielded to bear the
pain of the past
for tomorrow, last year
we didn't need
shelter from the rain
the refuge we had
sought we had found
in each other at last
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
Tree routes
they never desired
to be ornamented
with suspended
lifeless bodies
nor did they wish
to surrender their
own carcasses so
bodies could serve
as examples in a
more convenient locale,
their arms piercing
others' skulls
their fate is always
of that tied to us
ascending ladders
rising higher to
cloudy oceans and
smoldering quasars
but ladders possess
both directions and
tunnel deep into
depths overlooked by
everyday eyes and cares
deep into solidity
where pressure and
wait marry dismal
with brilliance
either ladder end
bears its own reward
and what is sought
can be found in both
depths and heights
only from mines
deep within can be
found gems adorning
crowns on high
and ladders are
climbed to and fro
as lungs inhale and
blow away collected
perceptions of existence
that is their fate
to be entwined and to
entwine what always
will be with what has
always been:
the germ and its
many coils flowing
down a stream of
dreamt toils
to be ornamented
with suspended
lifeless bodies
nor did they wish
to surrender their
own carcasses so
bodies could serve
as examples in a
more convenient locale,
their arms piercing
others' skulls
their fate is always
of that tied to us
ascending ladders
rising higher to
cloudy oceans and
smoldering quasars
but ladders possess
both directions and
tunnel deep into
depths overlooked by
everyday eyes and cares
deep into solidity
where pressure and
wait marry dismal
with brilliance
either ladder end
bears its own reward
and what is sought
can be found in both
depths and heights
only from mines
deep within can be
found gems adorning
crowns on high
and ladders are
climbed to and fro
as lungs inhale and
blow away collected
perceptions of existence
that is their fate
to be entwined and to
entwine what always
will be with what has
always been:
the germ and its
many coils flowing
down a stream of
dreamt toils
Monday, February 10, 2014
Gender rolls
the great baker man
turns out cake in pan
stirring together
one part carbon
to three parts water
and a pinch of
calcium, sodium,
and the spice of life
cracking open shells
and pouring out souls
to whip into frothy
means of existence
placing into wombs
a batter of body to
bake for many moons
but the sweet dessert
always comes last
the revelry and feast
after the long dull fast
though the baker
turns out budding
bodies from piping
hot female kilns
the buns aren't
ready to serve until
they've been buttered
and only a bun
can know when it's
ready for that
and find it's place
among the giant pan
of gender rolls
turns out cake in pan
stirring together
one part carbon
to three parts water
and a pinch of
calcium, sodium,
and the spice of life
cracking open shells
and pouring out souls
to whip into frothy
means of existence
placing into wombs
a batter of body to
bake for many moons
but the sweet dessert
always comes last
the revelry and feast
after the long dull fast
though the baker
turns out budding
bodies from piping
hot female kilns
the buns aren't
ready to serve until
they've been buttered
and only a bun
can know when it's
ready for that
and find it's place
among the giant pan
of gender rolls
Sunday, February 9, 2014
Bottle in a genie
a loan, just a loan
can you throw
me a bone
this needs gold
and that needs...
silly me to think coins
come down from
hanging gray skies
or are found in
the morning...
do they even
accept these bits
and pieces deep
within my chest
always the same
their wish's name
always why they came
lame the game
a loan, simply a loan
was there anything
you have thrown
as you can tell
I am in my own...
help! if you can
as I tire of the throngs
rubbing my belly
as though I was
from some eastern land
I wish they'd see
the genie is already free...
sort of, because I
swallowed the bottle
a bit too much to drink
you might say
and there's the loan,
a mere loan
for though I'm
out here on my own
in the bottle still
lays my wishbone
can you throw
me a bone
this needs gold
and that needs...
silly me to think coins
come down from
hanging gray skies
or are found in
the morning...
do they even
accept these bits
and pieces deep
within my chest
always the same
their wish's name
always why they came
lame the game
a loan, simply a loan
was there anything
you have thrown
as you can tell
I am in my own...
help! if you can
as I tire of the throngs
rubbing my belly
as though I was
from some eastern land
I wish they'd see
the genie is already free...
sort of, because I
swallowed the bottle
a bit too much to drink
you might say
and there's the loan,
a mere loan
for though I'm
out here on my own
in the bottle still
lays my wishbone
Thursday, February 6, 2014
Gooseboots
'twas an article,
a simple piece to
wear when the world
had worn enough
away from you
my station passed
into a waning horizon
the sun dimmed
the view, blackened
blue flooding an
upturned empty bowl
spilled out the
moments onto its
canvas we stretched
over the bones
of our life to splatter
with oiled faith and
watery figments
flowing over
forgotten stubble
uncut from dull blade
the necks of many
waiting their penned
turns, rabbit hearts
leaping in their breasts
from the seconds
still to tick within
a few given minutes
comprise an end
to the last of walks
for which these brief
boots were fashioned for
a simple piece to
wear when the world
had worn enough
away from you
my station passed
into a waning horizon
the sun dimmed
the view, blackened
blue flooding an
upturned empty bowl
spilled out the
moments onto its
canvas we stretched
over the bones
of our life to splatter
with oiled faith and
watery figments
flowing over
forgotten stubble
uncut from dull blade
the necks of many
waiting their penned
turns, rabbit hearts
leaping in their breasts
from the seconds
still to tick within
a few given minutes
comprise an end
to the last of walks
for which these brief
boots were fashioned for
Sunday, February 2, 2014
Saturday, February 1, 2014
Off to school
chilly the wind of
early spring mornings
imploring rosy
cheeks on siblings and I
too long a walk
though it seemed
down a pebble paved
road the length
of our homeland
past neighboring
pens which caged
the animals that
captured a child's
avid curiosity
but there were
other things to
tend to then
finding our way
through tear soaked
views brought on
by the sting of cold
in the waiting
for a bluebird
with a giant yellow
body to carry us off
to the limits of
our silly little minds
in the waiting
we burrowed down
digging earthen chairs
in sides of the ditch
and ducked below
the cold wind's grip
in jacket or coat
huddled down we
waited to hear the
advancing diesel
engine roar and the
squealing brakes of
the giant yellow bluebird
for in there at least
was a bit of heat
enclosed from the
chilly morning wind
early spring mornings
imploring rosy
cheeks on siblings and I
too long a walk
though it seemed
down a pebble paved
road the length
of our homeland
past neighboring
pens which caged
the animals that
captured a child's
avid curiosity
but there were
other things to
tend to then
finding our way
through tear soaked
views brought on
by the sting of cold
in the waiting
for a bluebird
with a giant yellow
body to carry us off
to the limits of
our silly little minds
in the waiting
we burrowed down
digging earthen chairs
in sides of the ditch
and ducked below
the cold wind's grip
in jacket or coat
huddled down we
waited to hear the
advancing diesel
engine roar and the
squealing brakes of
the giant yellow bluebird
for in there at least
was a bit of heat
enclosed from the
chilly morning wind
Saturday, January 25, 2014
Washer woman's words
where be mer
bottle of bluing
ye know, da one
tat's used to treek
yer eye in seeing
yellard stained
linens as pristine
fresh snow white
for tat bottle
with its little
ground mineral
will brighten dis
sullied soul tat's
been dragged down
to da gutter view
for tat bottle
wit its powdered
azure dust will
turn dis ragged
tone to petals
tossed in angelic
flight e'er white
treeky viewing
a hue from bluing
trading brittle
torn pages past
lessons from da
looking glass,
for glamorous tale
behind pale veil
trading veins
unfolding paths
once traveled,
for salty flats
wit aimless reaches
and barren fonts
eyes surmise
what's seen aherd,
dat's all dat's said
so a bit of
bluing for deir
viewing and need
not know true
yellar deir pristine
white as snow
bottle of bluing
ye know, da one
tat's used to treek
yer eye in seeing
yellard stained
linens as pristine
fresh snow white
for tat bottle
with its little
ground mineral
will brighten dis
sullied soul tat's
been dragged down
to da gutter view
for tat bottle
wit its powdered
azure dust will
turn dis ragged
tone to petals
tossed in angelic
flight e'er white
treeky viewing
a hue from bluing
trading brittle
torn pages past
lessons from da
looking glass,
for glamorous tale
behind pale veil
trading veins
unfolding paths
once traveled,
for salty flats
wit aimless reaches
and barren fonts
eyes surmise
what's seen aherd,
dat's all dat's said
so a bit of
bluing for deir
viewing and need
not know true
yellar deir pristine
white as snow
January 25th
raw space, raw emotions
jagged words and devotions
shutter once, shaken thrice
bumping into you was the spice
you apologized for it too
when my body joined you
"anytime", I softly said
going right over your head
giving me another chance
you spoke volumes in your glance
sight to that night we missed
to that night we never kissed
jagged words and devotions
shutter once, shaken thrice
bumping into you was the spice
you apologized for it too
when my body joined you
"anytime", I softly said
going right over your head
giving me another chance
you spoke volumes in your glance
sight to that night we missed
to that night we never kissed
Monday, January 20, 2014
Sunday, January 19, 2014
Painted lady
unsaid the impulse
hiding behind wine
blushed cheeks and
ruby stained lips
pale canvas where
these features lock
away the longing
haunting the shell
inflamed hell of
satin flaring liquid
that physician's let
in long ago days
liquid that warms
bisque flesh held
fixed in throngs
of those below
bellow they may
and coo and bow
to know her favor
may be found
around the corner
is her mind where
lovers' hands glide
over breast and groin
loin massed with
lace etched wings
hover her heart in
doting fools' company
wild hooves race
within her bosom
for she has found
desires run free
there the rushing
wants take flight
for heart desires
lack any ankle irons
yet she be her
own prison keep
with rusty keys held
beyond love's reach
and satin layers
wall within stark
screams rattling
a pale fair cage
hiding behind wine
blushed cheeks and
ruby stained lips
pale canvas where
these features lock
away the longing
haunting the shell
inflamed hell of
satin flaring liquid
that physician's let
in long ago days
liquid that warms
bisque flesh held
fixed in throngs
of those below
bellow they may
and coo and bow
to know her favor
may be found
around the corner
is her mind where
lovers' hands glide
over breast and groin
loin massed with
lace etched wings
hover her heart in
doting fools' company
wild hooves race
within her bosom
for she has found
desires run free
there the rushing
wants take flight
for heart desires
lack any ankle irons
yet she be her
own prison keep
with rusty keys held
beyond love's reach
and satin layers
wall within stark
screams rattling
a pale fair cage
Thursday, January 16, 2014
I'm gonna get the mail
holding air when
wind encircles hooded
face in blinding embrace
bare footprints in
the snow shuffle over
road that knew of black
and black is still
a metal box on post
rendering afternoon post
box mouth yawns
and upchucks three
slips of tree upchucks
scuttle back to
door ajar in white
head to flow aground
behind a door
with post in hand
wrinkled raised brow
wind encircles hooded
face in blinding embrace
bare footprints in
the snow shuffle over
road that knew of black
and black is still
a metal box on post
rendering afternoon post
box mouth yawns
and upchucks three
slips of tree upchucks
scuttle back to
door ajar in white
head to flow aground
behind a door
with post in hand
wrinkled raised brow
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
Villusions
awakened from a
slumber realized
from sedations
body numb in
rising, lacking
simple sensations
eyes are dripping
with rancid
hallucinations
subconscious has
vomited all
its floral creations
budding and
heady blooming
of elusive gestations
irises unfold in
a field of fetid
hallucinations
of genie smoke
granting wishful
blissful elations
in foreign lands
beyond known
tongues and relations
pupils seeking
truths behind rank
hallucinations
yet lamp light
grows dim in the
shadow of negations
where reasoning
and rules meet
manic abrogations
lenses are blurred
from seamy
hallucinations
ships still set
sail in oceans of
dire temptations
in which teeth
and tentacles
execute predations
so grateful these
be only foul
hallucinations
slumber realized
from sedations
body numb in
rising, lacking
simple sensations
eyes are dripping
with rancid
hallucinations
subconscious has
vomited all
its floral creations
budding and
heady blooming
of elusive gestations
irises unfold in
a field of fetid
hallucinations
of genie smoke
granting wishful
blissful elations
in foreign lands
beyond known
tongues and relations
pupils seeking
truths behind rank
hallucinations
yet lamp light
grows dim in the
shadow of negations
where reasoning
and rules meet
manic abrogations
lenses are blurred
from seamy
hallucinations
ships still set
sail in oceans of
dire temptations
in which teeth
and tentacles
execute predations
so grateful these
be only foul
hallucinations
Saturday, January 11, 2014
More beauty unclear
more beauty
near explosions
yielding glass
in the sands
sands as white,
the tattered
lattices falling
from frozen heights
heights to which
rise the release
of ignorance
with excess power
power in pockets
and burning fear
and shovelfuls
of unclear stones
unclear, stones
that were whittled
by time's and wind's
instant feats
feats for death,
for surrender of
chaos and breath
held those minutes
minutes blooming
in the lack of rain
near unclear waste
and more beauty
near explosions
yielding glass
in the sands
sands as white,
the tattered
lattices falling
from frozen heights
heights to which
rise the release
of ignorance
with excess power
power in pockets
and burning fear
and shovelfuls
of unclear stones
unclear, stones
that were whittled
by time's and wind's
instant feats
feats for death,
for surrender of
chaos and breath
held those minutes
minutes blooming
in the lack of rain
near unclear waste
and more beauty
Friday, January 10, 2014
Breakfast
buttered burden
on burnt toast
in stale chilled air
sipped the day
not yet met by
glimpse of sun
hidden in the steam
rising off the cup's
dark surface
waited for the
push of the liquid
and its inoculates
expelled a smoke
that filled my lungs
and seared my body
hidden in the face
of listless and
bloodshot eyes
scanned black
and white and
lines and letters
waited for time
to catch up with
plans not made
hidden in the feet
dwindling with
every passing tick
on burnt toast
in stale chilled air
sipped the day
not yet met by
glimpse of sun
hidden in the steam
rising off the cup's
dark surface
waited for the
push of the liquid
and its inoculates
expelled a smoke
that filled my lungs
and seared my body
hidden in the face
of listless and
bloodshot eyes
scanned black
and white and
lines and letters
waited for time
to catch up with
plans not made
hidden in the feet
dwindling with
every passing tick
Monday, January 6, 2014
And bleh!
can't say
cannot really
drooping lids
weighted lashes
draw the
optical sashes
close sign hung
on lips taxed
from conjured
chit chat
spat and spit
those letters
linked to this
or that thought
full or was
when stomach
growled in its
emptiness
was present
in grasping for
answers in a
chamber some
place up high
and low for
the chatter was
too slow but
the objections
were too fast
last call for
chipping into
the slop bucket
won't feed any
piggy bank here
cannot really
drooping lids
weighted lashes
draw the
optical sashes
close sign hung
on lips taxed
from conjured
chit chat
spat and spit
those letters
linked to this
or that thought
full or was
when stomach
growled in its
emptiness
was present
in grasping for
answers in a
chamber some
place up high
and low for
the chatter was
too slow but
the objections
were too fast
last call for
chipping into
the slop bucket
won't feed any
piggy bank here
Sunday, January 5, 2014
The dust people
they had been sitting
at the front door too long
whittled their fingers to the bone
in front of chunks of earth
matted with roots that once
grew beneath their feet
and now who knows where
house and clothes end
and ground and skin start
consumed the soil they have
and traded it for a thing
finer than any sand that has
measured any amount of time
all that measures their time
spent inhaling their home
are memories quickly savored
in the brief moments the
wind decides to catch its...
breath is as elusive as
the rains leaving a people
to bathe themselves only
in their sweat and tears
upon year after years
the fence posts bitterly
disappear by the hands
of gritty air and locust teeth
and houses and barns
are taken by large metal
blades backed by suits
and numerical hearts
that scatter a people to
makeshift mobile lives and
canvas tents where Zion and
the promised land drip off of
saturated evangelical tongues
yet the promised land was
theirs underneath their fingernails
and deep within their lungs
it piled up at their front doors
as the wind tried to bury the past
at the front door too long
whittled their fingers to the bone
in front of chunks of earth
matted with roots that once
grew beneath their feet
and now who knows where
house and clothes end
and ground and skin start
consumed the soil they have
and traded it for a thing
finer than any sand that has
measured any amount of time
all that measures their time
spent inhaling their home
are memories quickly savored
in the brief moments the
wind decides to catch its...
breath is as elusive as
the rains leaving a people
to bathe themselves only
in their sweat and tears
upon year after years
the fence posts bitterly
disappear by the hands
of gritty air and locust teeth
and houses and barns
are taken by large metal
blades backed by suits
and numerical hearts
that scatter a people to
makeshift mobile lives and
canvas tents where Zion and
the promised land drip off of
saturated evangelical tongues
yet the promised land was
theirs underneath their fingernails
and deep within their lungs
it piled up at their front doors
as the wind tried to bury the past
Friday, January 3, 2014
Meshroom in a bottle
"Sip in times of
doubt for full elation
from the bare vessel
of first creation"
...scribbles on
pasted paper, the labels
that enwrap us all
heretic, virgin,
lost, drunk... preacher
ink from scribbles
runs in the aging
rains and twisting times
malformed details
pool together in
the belly of the bottle
meandering down
transparent cheeks
into a pool where
descriptive edges
are abandoned
where the whirling
details are found
to be lost in
...did they ever
really matter to us
yet glue is still
slathered on bare
vessels of first creation
and thin decorated
advertisements are
still slapped upside them
thus join in this,
a raised glass of
sterile stagnant thought
poured from this not so
bare vessel of first creation
doubt for full elation
from the bare vessel
of first creation"
...scribbles on
pasted paper, the labels
that enwrap us all
heretic, virgin,
lost, drunk... preacher
ink from scribbles
runs in the aging
rains and twisting times
malformed details
pool together in
the belly of the bottle
meandering down
transparent cheeks
into a pool where
descriptive edges
are abandoned
where the whirling
details are found
to be lost in
...did they ever
really matter to us
yet glue is still
slathered on bare
vessels of first creation
and thin decorated
advertisements are
still slapped upside them
thus join in this,
a raised glass of
sterile stagnant thought
poured from this not so
bare vessel of first creation
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
And thirteen bowed
carniver - us
the cadaver dipped
in batter, fried in
an oily lather for
folks at the carnival
sublime slime oozing
from grins reveling
in the levels layered
throughout, exuding time
screaming clowns -
years neared and veered
to and from the hazy
maze that is the brain
wincing strong men -
moments in show tents
when strength eddied
down porcelain toilets
cackling ladies with beards -
hours of nosegays in
flowers, soaps and hopes
for friends beyond ends
studious jugglers -
minutes of print us,
them or him placing
pen to paper, shaper of words
the birds and cards and
wands and rabbits, habits
of magic sliding out of cuff
and collar to a tedious scholar...
ravenous fire eaters -
flashing seconds, beckons
the two flames floating in
a night beyond twilight
to thirteen cars along the rails
was added one, empty to tempt
thee to know, but for the show,
what's certain is behind the curtain
the cadaver dipped
in batter, fried in
an oily lather for
folks at the carnival
sublime slime oozing
from grins reveling
in the levels layered
throughout, exuding time
screaming clowns -
years neared and veered
to and from the hazy
maze that is the brain
wincing strong men -
moments in show tents
when strength eddied
down porcelain toilets
cackling ladies with beards -
hours of nosegays in
flowers, soaps and hopes
for friends beyond ends
studious jugglers -
minutes of print us,
them or him placing
pen to paper, shaper of words
the birds and cards and
wands and rabbits, habits
of magic sliding out of cuff
and collar to a tedious scholar...
ravenous fire eaters -
flashing seconds, beckons
the two flames floating in
a night beyond twilight
to thirteen cars along the rails
was added one, empty to tempt
thee to know, but for the show,
what's certain is behind the curtain
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