Joy

the soil lingers beneath
her fingernails, nestled
between the flesh of
fingertip and unkempt keratin

gloves never suited
her earthworm like
fingers that reveled in
feeling the moist soil
against their skin

when she reaches
within the holes her
ravenous hands excavate
she becomes the force
behind earth and birth

she has watched her
fellow flower enthusiasts
hover as viceroys and
painted ladies over
the pots of nursery stock

they sip from pools
of gossip, a drink she
has always found bitter
as it has been mostly
thrown in her face

their words are as
that of the hummingbird's
flapping wings and they
drink and pick and prod petals

allure has mostly distracted
her from tame potted plants
and she instead looks for
specimens of the ditch

the fiery head of dock
waving slender clover arms
protruding and silver
thorns of purple thistles
these of the wild excite her

they are her feral lovers
that beckon to her
in the sun scorched heat
and sticky skin afternoons

and she dare not bring
them home with her but
rather savor them where
their roots run deep into
the moist soil that lingers
beneath her fingernails

Jargon jaunting: part bubble to trouble

she traveled the world
flying high, blue sky
in her wind blew bubble, bubble
she traveled the world

she scolded the world
sinking low, cold snow
within a blue bible, bible
she scolded the world

she perplexed the world
preaching long, numb throng
her windy blah babble, babble
she perplexed the world

she balanced the world
tipping late, fixed hate
windiest woo wobble, wobble
she balanced the world

she parted the world
leaving all, last call
when in true trouble, trouble
she parted the world

Cavern

a cavern shut up from the light of day
a cavern saturated in dark and grey

the hollow insides where time has burrowed
where water tickles the stones it sowed

emptied, this pocket from the shifting earth
bare tomb for death or womb for birth

rise the pillars with rooted calcium ore
adulterated figures posing across the floor

their dance, the slightest movement of matter
their life, the slightest touch will shatter

they sip, as we have, of primordial brew
and toast to the old ancients renewing anew

within a cavern starved of the light of day
a cavern of dripping rock, of frozen clay

Swing of sword

a pen, the spear
the sword they swear
swings here and there
in biblical times of old


but I still swing that sword
though it be laden
with curses of childhood
and strengths too weak
to word, I swing it still!


it is the sword of truths
known of my tongue
and heart and heats
the lamp I carry out
into the dark and unsaid


the letters, the lines
the pages that unfurl
from the Mecca far within
from the river running deep
coursing through the
temple's tomb where I
buried pomp and incense
and crosses that messiahs
had climbed off of when they
found no further use of


my prophets are the poets
who speak of the world poured
from their hearts, that shines
from their witness
their verse are the sacred texts
that continue to whirl
around the cycles of suns
into the eternal and inevitable

Right ear

thump, thump thump
of the beat in the ear
as it waits, waits, waits
for a call drawing near

beep, beep, beep
of the phone in the ear
as it signals the call
of a voice drawing near

blah, blah, blah
speaks a voice in the ear
as it yaks, yaks, yaks
from a lip and a sneer

roll, roll, roll
of the eyes from the ear
listening to the call
it wishes it didn't hear

roar, roar, roar
is the whine in the ear
it brews and it bubbles
as a full glass of beer

yip, yip, yip
still the bark in the ear
voice gripes, gripes, gripes
from the pain in the rear

sigh, sigh, sigh
are ghosts avoiding ear
who fall from the breath
from the eye falls a tear

drips, drips, drips
leaky mouth in the ear
a minute turns to ten
turns to a week and a year

click, click, click
sudden sounds in the ear
the call must have dropped
great relief, even cheer

Abysmal dark

deep in dirt their hands
reach down in abysmal dark
the absent color of pitch
that stirs and bellows forth
from the ancients of ancients
who swam in squalor puddles
absorbing into the color of pitch
that stirs and bellows forth
from steel trunks into choking
lungs, depleted the elemental
that rose from whose hands
reach down in abysmal dark

whose hands have reached
the puddles that remain from
remains settled in silted time
the grime the color of pitch
that stirs and bellows forth
into young arisen of the dirt
where hands still reach into
abysmal dark and cavernous days
the ravenous haze lingers
yet and swirls into the lungs
that turn into the color of pitch
that stirs and bellows forth
from chariots and trading
caravans and shooting comets
polluting, vomits, gasping
reaching into the abysmal dark

deep in the dirt they gnaw
calcium grinding calcium stones
whose bones pick teeth
and teeter as buried temples
where flesh and blood have
flown into the color of pitch
that stirs and bellows forth
for light, for words, for young
arising from the dirt where
hands dig deep into the dark
to forget, to remember, to
turn into the color of pitch
that stirs and bellows forth
and rises to fall upon the cold
the older than the old who
no longer remain as remains
within the abysmal dark

Tear the tears away

some days the wind takes her
beyond the technicolor shoes
beyond worlds of rainbows
above the clouds and the blues

some days the wind shakes her
by slamming the door
like it did to her mother and her mother
and their mothers before

but she is a child of the wind
and knows how to find her way
she knows it's worth the fight
and how to tear her tears away

one day the wind will make her
into the song sung from her heart
into the joy and the love
she possessed from the very start

one day the wind will wake her
and she will know she's so much more
like it did for her mother and her mother
and their mothers before

for she is a daughter of the wind
and knows there's a better day
she knows it's so worth the fight
and how to tear her tears away


- for Jaimey

Grains of rain

in the grains of rain,

so temporary and loose,

are captured small worlds

lasting as long as the 

grains of rains remain

moist eyes these wink

collecting the grains of rain

and peer into views above,

around and within what

the grains of rain contain

oceans puddle murky and

still full of the grains of rain

until sun straws dive into

puddled portals to sip

the grains of rain champagne

Cupid these days

found feathers, formerly floating
now fallen, fastened now

a passing kissing fancy
of this, a heart enwrapped fantasy
passing thoughts what could be

cheeks rest on forearms
a titled head with heaven glances
longing wishes of more those chances
at least of beat skipping dances
that linger in dreamy trances

but Cupid carries tasers these days
and is here and gone and rarely stays
to simply stun with a little fun

a tickle, a tease, please,
oh won't you please
instead draw back your bow
and penetrate this heart
with your sharp headed arrow

be done with it and me
in flesh bound satisfactory
let the blood flow down my chest
and in it find your rest

Car candy

multi colored jellybeans zoom
there and back again on streets
of black licorice lanes

and with the jellybeans join
over-sized gumballs and
jawbreaker freighters

dances commence within
the licorice tangled intersections
as red, green and yellow gumdrops
blink and wink and stare

maple syrup drips and drops
with glazing rains in early morn
to sparkle shine the streets
of sweets in later shining day

frosted wafers stand at edge
of licorice lanes to guide the
beans and breakers and balls
along the sweetened streeted lanes

and jelly wheels spin around
to carry each along their way
through maple syrup showers
into sparkling shine of day