Temperate sympathies
That do not cross
On mild  
well wishing winds
  
My mind ...
Thoughts drape
Like a sky  
Crossed by indifference  
Slow cumulonimbus drifting  
  
Obscure references  
That part
You and me
  
You see...
What matters to me now
Is not what mattered to me then  
  
Like the owl
Who shattered his beak
Trying
Then with slow turning of his head...
Spies his meal
And cannot eat
  
To seek
Broken and in need  
To find what might nourish you
Its appeal rolling small and helpless  
In the grass
Or underneath layers
Of dead wood and compost
  
Heaped over a trembling effort  
To hide and stay lost  
From piercing capture
  
To watch that vulnerable discomfort
Out of the gaze  
Of an eye ready with capable force
And wicked ability to take it...
And,
Transform loss through its digestion
Into
Energy
  
To just look  
Chest heaving with power  
Over it?  
  
To sit on wooden ledge  
With any comfort?
  
Surely I would turn my stare  
round towards some other  
ease for my yearnings  
A penchant for what stirs me
set softly to the side
  
So I am implying  
Your sympathies are false
To your nature
And my security
  
Here in this underbrush
And shaky home

The Lake

I stand before her
She is bold and blue
And cracks
With boning pressure and the shock of release

To bobbing sternum sheath
As if the chest
Of this now breathing frozen lake
Intubated by the will
And warm might of the sun

It’s rays like pumping hands
She moans
And underneath the sloshing of Iced veins
As they push through

Newborn

A magic shot
Shudders through
And shouts entrapment

Corrupting the silent calm
Sentinel of the wild

They stand watching
And fear her resurrection

She holds in pale blue
Electric palm
The capacity
And surreal intent
To tread through stability
And destroy the taproot
Of all that is known

“The ancient map”
And take down their King
With cool
Uncaring flinch

She breathes
And her chest
Rises
And falls
Great calamity
A cold terror

Blows through the sleeves of strong men
Spreads frostbite through the tips of fingers

Of able hands
Crippled by her might

And crestfallen
They disembark
On readied boats
On the opened currents
She has shown

Burning through
Archaic sentiment
.....But burning
And an appreciation
An appropriate passion
For what is not gold
But the tint of Calx
rusted root
Or the rust of a tin can
Planted in soil
For generations
And the dangerous space
That leads the Copperhead
Ahead of Chevron tiled slither
A scent of foreboding fortune mixed with feces and intent
But comes to some
The smell of cucumbers
To some plain foul
As flared and frightened nostrils
Take it in
And exhale no art
Poetry
Music
Stroke
Of mimic
The raw colors of the world
The value of salt
As it adds to the human condition
Or reflects
Truly the grimy
And honest
Often *******
Often Jesus Christ
Cornerstone, of humanity
The weary and brutal
Sidewalks
Filled with ******* seekers
Rattling keychains
That hang from pockets
Spilling Velcro unicorns
In colorful plastic

Burning through ..
and these things around me
Spill
A pilgrimage of sorts
To the Buk
And his awareness :
....Need to find art ...
To seek it in the ally’s
Or the eye of the convict
Where some might see
Only concrete and grey

Once submitted
Bathroom stall push
Through sign
Hung to progeny carefully
Reading:
Non violent
No entry
Special

Once over
Grimy bowl
And hands gripping rail
Face precariously close
To gaping glory hole

Sign reading:
Seeking
Truck stop peckers
And the trap house
Un mighty
Card board rejects
Trading dollars
For rolls of pennies

Once over
Shocked face
Replaced by
Clouded eyes
Enough to shove it deep

She breathes mightily
And stashes her sack
Between two white
Tear drop shaped
Pillows meant to nurture

Sign reading:
Do not suckle here
You would wet my rock
Not my crotch

If they would be bared
And react without permission
Suggesting tease
Toothy tug
Or for play

This sign would be a lie

You see
The points that drive her
To 76
Station stalls
1 cc
Ends
That drive into her skin
Down little blue highways

Crushing soul swept
Blown by the force of human
And rises within me
Fight  
  
****** temptation  
And fists to swing
And break  
You  
  
Me
  
My might not disclosed
Betrayed by my face
Shocked
Flatlined mouth
No words
  
Not any
  
Come a day  
Without it  
This that would cause
Me to bend down  
And deliver it  
  
My face ticking like a bomb
Twitching conservatory  
What remains
A frown  
Awaits chagrin
  
Awaiting comfort
Ease and freedom from this
And others that would trumpet  
Victory  
  
But low key  
Easy listening  
  
Others that carry  
A smile in pocket  
To take out  
Whenever
  
You know
Just whenever
  
And just like that man
I mean I’d be fine with
Just like that
  
Man
  
Casual  
Careless whenever
It’s cool man it’s cool  
And I’d mean it
  
Sincerely  
  
No clenched fist
But flat palm offered for  
Shake  
Or even
A low five
  
Ya dig?  
  
I know I would  
Will  
I see it clearly
Behind eyes
That squint  
Fierce lines
Of battle
  
The drums are too loud  
Boom my mind
But I feel  
Wrists are tired  
With  
Rat a tat tat
  
  
(Finger tapping)
I’ll twist this tissue
And wait

She was the reckoning
In God’s eye  
  
And she came before his moment  
Not unlike
The clamshell breathe  
That exhaled enough  
Of gritty debris  
And salty waste  
To stir warm waters to rise  
  
A momentum growing  
From one minuscule  
Molluskular  
Involuntary reaction  
To his “pain in her mask”  
Pure no count dumb fuckery  
  
A momentum that would rise  
And fall  
To onslaught  
Tidal wave effects  
  
And land  
(An understatement at the very least)  
Onto his his psyche  
(She sees dumb **** beach)  
And leave in tatters  
  
Browned and dimmed  
Once fresh pressed  
Buttoned downed to tanned flattened  
navel  
Supremely white cotton shirt  
And smirking logo stitched on it  
  
And she would grin  
Clamshell wide  
At how his smile once matched the smirk  
Of the perfectly put and odd little logo  
That sat  
(almost mocking her)  
Upon his white shirt  
  
But now due to  
The much needed exhale  
(Involuntary Molluskular removal of little more that bits of would be ****)  
  
Had left him only the expression  
Of purely God Smacked