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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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