daniel-sandovalWhisper

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Backyard StarsAll these backyard stars are sailing, sweeping, spinning over me, still the ground is calling. Lay, stay, stare in awestruck wonder at the infinate diamonds as they dance thier ancient waltz. Who else stared at this beauty before these were my backyard stars? Farmers, ranchers, lovers, they must have stood here, on this calling ground dreaming, wondering, kissing. Now they are mine, my ageless lights. I give one her name, though it probably has been named before. The earth moves and still cries out, but it is too cold. I take my last drag blowing the smoke like a goodnight kiss, someday I will sell this house, stars and all.

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The NomadGuttural screams and the ****** beating churns all the more. / Walking west into the dying light, shadows linger about waiting to seize the Earth in their pseudo claws. / Twenty three miles to the next roadside solace, oasis of vending machine illumination,

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Thomas O’Keene and the Imagination MachineThomas O’Keene, like most little boys, / imagined great things when he played with his toys. / In the big room that he shared with his brothers,

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VisionAngelic form descends to the water's edge. / Slowly the porcelain skin is enveloped by the cool dark, / until only golden locks rest on the surface with head tilted to heaven.

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The RaveSpread the word , the Machine is coming. A circus of steel springs and combustion all grinding to the drums. Watch them waiting, every color, every clan; all wanting to be part of the system as it begins with a roar like a turbo charged engine they rush the door. / Inside, heads swim in a new found sea, unconscious are the dancing sparks and gay revelers in their glitter coated world. Limbs pumping, pounding pistons running full blast through the night. Up creaking stairs into the radiator, cooling chamber, thick green haze passes over innumerable points of light; oxygen restriction. Drums persist pouring down white rain on melting minds. Thrilling, rushing euphoric rhythms flow like wine from fine crystal. Speak and you will not be heard, listen and you will hear no voice, for the machine stops for no one until morn. / Wasting away in the exhaust of a comatose state are some, eyes open seeing new worlds in clarity are others, while a select few crawl through Hell blinded by visions of terror. Still the electric pulses have yet to slow, numb to the deafening watts as they are now winding their way to the surface of a sleeping city. Whimsical youths will lay until afternoon, their internal timing chains hours slow, yet only eight rounds of the gauge have passed. The beating motion is still lingering as weary heads fall upon waiting pillows, headlight eyes switch off near six am. The last sounds fade for these who now dream anew, yet still worshipers of the dance rage against the coming of the light, would they be consumed in the warehouse flames before they saw the dawn?

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Grocery ListMilk, bread, butter, juice, jelly / cereal.. / My life is my grocery list,

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The DancersGently soaring against green sky, / white world above. / Glimmers pass just under each crest.

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The CookHe is ethereal, gliding through the vapor curtains in rhythm to the music. / His father's gift, memories of the big kitchen where he made the cherry strudels. Here part of him moves the hands that paint laughter and the chime of crystal. Too much, not enough, herbs chopped and sprinkled on the sizzling stainless steel. The blade flashes it's silver grin upon the butchers block. Boil, stir, simmer, mix the colors on the pallet and brush on the final coat. Peaches from the stand down on the highway, ***** from the bay just a few minutes walk down that dirt road. He works for there is peace here, he paints for that one girl's smile, and it is enough. Pour a glass of red and sit. Let us break bread together.

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Boy at the Ant HillFace down in the mire, head weighs three tons. / Ants marching, he longs to be among their / shimmering ebony ranks.

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Blood GrassDawn fades to day, wilts the orchid's bloom. / Questioned light of coming Spring; of clouds spilling cool waves creating innocent hours. / New midnight sight, colorless worlds caressing remembrance, washed ashore, pulled back into the waves, evoking silence from the once chaotic weaving of a dew drenched widow's web.

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