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

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

Portrait of a Poppy

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

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