Is there a death
Or a corpse among us
With the unwilting power
To flower
In face

To transform
Remorse’s course
And not stand in place

With footprints sure
On the edge of obscure

But not a tip toe in to six
And deep
To unshovel the ashes
From out of the heap

A noose who’d unravel
After judges gavel
A careless hood that might show
Sweet hangman’s face

O’ face please lie
Tell me I might not die
Tell me I edge ever still
Towards my infancy

Will my mirror to crack
I will gather her back
Puzzle pieced
And closer to thee

His eyes black as night hooks
His eyes black as solemn nickels
And to be spent
Perversely

On treats
Poked and prodded
Prayed from the gripping hands
Pried by means
Rough like shoddy tendrils
Of the beggar
Or the mercenary
Of the wino turned soldier
Of dubious fog and haze

He seeks non-combatant
Non-committal
Well turned flesh

White mooned orbs
And a gaze like death
Corseted to her cheeks
A rosened hue
Of chalk and fear

And brings a suddenness
Intended to escape memory

It seems the foreboding nature
Of this sidewalk itself
Causes her stoop
That mimics a sway
That shakes her hips
Like battleships

And in his mind
It has become a war
It is his call
His strike
And beyond his command

Caught

There is a deer here
.....veers from the head lamps
And shoots his sweltering skin
He slows
And feels alive
His chest heaves
The onslaught of branches
A rocking chair

he is swaddled by the darkness

.....has shed the light

Vacation

Interacting with the locals
Carrying baskets  
Bulging fresh fruit  
And palm tree smacked grin
  
The sun kissed
And grabbed me by the skin  
She danced the light
And smattered it  
Across my wrinkled  
Up nose  
  
Playful  
Kool aid carefreed  
Steel drummed  
Rolling round plinking and  
Plopped down to beach it
While curling toes felt up the sand  
  
I just lay
And soaked up the Rastafarian  
Three man band  
And the **** of spliff  
And the **** of spliff
Tobacco scent  
Wrought ****** havoc  
To rims eeeeking red  
My blink ate dust
  
Soon
Like monsoon season  
And it’s worst  
Fuzzy shores  
A sky too electric blue  
To be right  
The edges of a postcard  
Eroded by salty water  
Takes the better part of a memory  
  
Come November
I stood scanning channels  
On a ****** radio  
To try and catch a glimpse  
Maybe Marley  
Or at the very least  
Calypso?  
At this point  
I’d Belefonte  
The **** outta this joint
  
It turned out
You can go back home again