Heart words

it's always on the tip
of my tongue
I can almost
recall it all
and blurt it out
in an empty theater
for the audience
had dinners to
attend before I
could remember...
remember...
the lines ran
down the ditch
power-line shadows
that ebbed and
flowed with the
bus driver's foot
on the accelerator
running quietly
and swiftly along
the morning...
morning...
rays of sun
were what blinded
me and caused
me to cross the road
unknowing of the traffic
and the woman behind
the wheel behind the
hood that I landed
on and the windshield
I shattered and the
asphalt road I was
flung upon to
escape for just
a little while so I
could peek at my script
and remember...
remember...
that I take 24 to
81 to 92 to 29
to 41st to 35th
to Marion to find you
but I couldn't
and was only a
street away from
where I had left you
in the dark and cold
where my heart wanted
to say more but I
had forgotten its words
they are there though
right on the tip
of my tongue

Sabbath

the green is growing
darker in the blades
as I walk this manicure
of my backyard's span
two copper canines
chase the floating blips
in the sticky evening air
as I pass by the blush
of lilies being kissed by
moths mimicking birds
I rush the engine spinning
blades through vegetation
as dimmer grows the light
hoping to be done with deed
before tomorrow's rain
hoping to give into the idea
to have a full day of rest

The red carpet

the true despair
is believing
the red carpet
illusion has rolled
out in front
of the world
in believing
the castes are
the haves
and haven'ts
and their dice
has fallen
in believing
wealth is all
what gold will
put in your
miserable pocket
for these momentary
brief breaths
in believing
wealth is all
the time in
the world when
the clock ticks out
just the same for
the roofing man baking
in the July sun
as it does for the
retired woman under
that very same roof
in believing the goal
is to have any of this
or to hold anyone
we meet along the way
for everything
and everyone
and everywhere belongs
to it all that both
the past and future
continually fight over
while the present
blankly stares into
the mirror

As of late

the days are met
to find glory
resting within the
cages that once
housed hearts
and those cages
buried beneath
stones ever
reaching for
eternity
yet they too
must succumb
must surrender
to the audacious
advances of
inevitability
never will that
hand be slapped
away
never to escape
that creeping
presence
that slight of
hand played
out on daily
mirrors before
careless eyes
the days are met
not to question
whom has
created the dust
but rather
whom was the
dust created from

From night

toes glide through
grass wet with dew
perspiring after the
flight of night with
the rising of dawn

something was left
in the shadow of dark
something remains
within the unspoken
faces of the stars
and the silent tongue
of the blind lunar eye

something was given
to the revelry in
nocturnal mockery
of the given reality
under warm solar rays

something was lost
to the oblivion found
in late stupors sipped
from chalices of
porcelain moon flowers

something lingers
within the very dew
caressing bare toes
that glide quietly
through the green grass
carrying their owner
out of concealed hope
and into revealed regret

Flora's whores

iridescent hues
drip in the evening sun
spilling over
soft gem laden cups
who serenade
feminine stripes
and sails of stained glass
their sweet words
those of sirens
they learned long ago
in almost every tongue
of almost every
pair of lips

iridescent hues
swirling in stirring
breath of zephyrs
once remembered
on burning pavement
underfoot
bare skin meeting
the caress of solar want
of delicate breezes lost
to the haughty wind
of silken dress
engulfing thirsty appetites
to suckle those
who stop to visit
to stay awhile
within the evening sun

Reinventing

can we do it
over again
is that why
we sleep
so we can
so we can
feel we aren't
always falling
that our mess
of mind matter
can stall
while the world
whirls round
once more
so we can
remember
to apologize
so we can
take the blame
and bare it
when others can't
so we can laugh
with each other
more than we
curse the wind
and bay at the moon
can we do it
over again
so I can wake up
and see you
instead of
just your picture
feel your breath
on my hand
instead of the cold air
of a winter
that just won't leave
can we do it
over again
so three words
can replace all
the others
we never meant
can we

Possession

on the jagged pavement
the metal men encircled me

as laid out in old pagan altars

and the rush of movement

I had been in was replaced

entirely by an intense silence

I rose in my tattered clothing

and torn flesh feel the trickle

of my blood and tears on my skin

a sudden sound of unearthly horns

bellowed forth from within

the towering hall I was thrown into

the still soldiers sharply parted

creating an avenue towards

the chilling source of the trumpeting

I was instantly seized by both arms

and carried forward against

the will of my legs or feet

lifting my head I peered 

to the walls on each side

and found them teeming

with monstrosities of every

sort a mind of utmost depravity

could devise of and vomit forth

each of these hellish beings

were focused on my proceeding

to the other end of this damned chamber

and the mass seemed to ooze

the anxious excitement a wolf

may hold in its heart before

tearing into the throat of its prey

the beastly soldier grips tightened

pinning my arms in their vicious vice

as I grew weaker with every step...