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

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

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

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

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