So many ships on those reefs-
taken out on maiden voyage some
others barnacled and water logged
sea warns burrowing into them
after many storm of salted dreams
gone, peasant tunes and dancing jigs
missing fancy rigging, unleashed rags
now just stare at broken ambition
lost harbors, no waiting slip's embrace
She, they, were once strong and main sailed
subdued by years of sailor's hands
with open ocean promises of land
**! thar she is come to port, past

-cec

Little Scarlet Mouse Girl
and I
had very little cash
left from pay day
in my days as a
projectionist at the
cheap theatres
and her time at
a head shop
that didn't keep very good books
But it was enough to
buy a few cheeseburgers
before my shift
on Christmas morning
and Little Scarlet Mouse Girl
says muffled through
a huge bite
"Jack in the Box burgers
taste like ****"
and quickly adds
"Not that I would know".
She dropped me off and kissed me
as the snow flurries gathered around
our feet
and I had thought for sure
at that moment
this was the person I would spend my life
curled around
Regardless of the drugs
her tongue was acquainted with

Heading for your heart
GPS beeping all ways there
sent reeling that lost is found
somewhere in desert towns
turned around again, twice
thought I had it right, nice
bearing on your destination
only to find that administration
of this on-board device was set
to the point of origin, yet not met

-cec

Your going seems an impact crater on Mars-
Old, with high ridges, distant and barren
Kilometers of striated landscape circumscribe you
This unimaginable visit; with little atmosphere,
stark shadows and light defining a wilderness whole
Hospital corner seams spell of violent invasion
vast stretches of gray dust pretend-cloud vistas
From this coup d'oeil, layers above your subterraneous thoughts
features once habitable, since blasted outwards
leaving strewn an eons life of orphaned rock
a mere whisper of once vast sea's potential
a whimper's noiseless remembrance lost
This journey home is comet dark in infinite parsecs
traveling farther each ways entangled heartache;
a quantum solace for another day to come

-cec



*n, pl - coups d'oeil (ku dœj):
a quick glance [literally: stroke of the eye]

Winter-

Winds howl outside on this house
a frozen dream's stormy wasteland
Inside, an oven door squeals open
warm bread mouth-hums from taste-hand

Spring-

Melting snow rivulets thaw on roof
echos of wet hollow gutter sounds
unfold branches by way of raveled roots
where sparrows tweet-twitch 'bound

Summer-

Pine cones crackle a buttery sun
spilling seeds for silent ant brigades
while cicadas Doppler-rattle day's spun
bees' low bumble pitch in flower glades

Fall-

Dry flush leaves charging over others blown
crunch brittle ******* under boot foot fall
soon to silent rot in squishy mats prone
alone, beneath a thunderous rain squall

In Between-

In quiet dawn and daunting vesper's gloam
creeks and crows, grunts and moans
city screech far from nature's tones
with ear to ground, and round to home

-cec

A little strip of paper-
Each Day is the First
telling of eons and hours
a moment's low pitch beat
stretched through years
to crumble open sweetness
and sun's horizon portals

-cec