Let me show you
Through the soft and gentle folds
Of fabric stitched with a fine silk threading
My raison d'etre

See there in the yellows of sun
And the pinks of this special moon
A new season
And reason to bloom

I have had days too long
And nights that fought the dawn to come
I have been so tired
From lonesome walks that I placed first foot in surely

But there are heavenly eyes that have brightened to see my arrival
And my eyes would shine to see yours

Of possessions
I need none but this
A loving glove for my hand that feels good in yours
To cover past fortunes told

But covered only a little while
until the comfort found in our grasp
Is as easy and familiar
As you once thought it used to be

This derelict mansion
My soul
And its worn fine embroidered
Green silk and
Once charming blinds
In tatters
Tatters I tell you

What say you
You and I
Hunt forgotten treasure
Here,
In long winding
Once bourgeoisie
Halls
Red carpeted halls
Of misdirection

Hunt treasure here
Perhaps pearls were once
Unstrung suddenly
As rough hand
Skipped its catch
And the beauty of pearls
Slipped and had scattered
Just rolled off and away from
Her smile

Just rolled away
And a tear
Like crystalline
Of little self
Was all there could be left
To shine him away

Derelict mansion
Of soul
Of little self
And forgotten treasure
Torments
Like howling caving walls
And floors sinking in
Like memories
Of torrential
Musty moisture
Grow into them
And show like dark faces
In screaming silence

Show like howling emblem
Mid seething anthem
To a shabby state

I had been in my head one morning
Feeling some kind of melancholy
Irregular to the sky
The summer sun
And the warmth and promise it so generously offered

The almighty intervenes in the oddest ways at times
For my weary gaze was caught by the unusual
And diverted me
From my self indulgent considerations

I pushed back my sunglasses
Careful to shade my curiosity
It can be a blurry line
when you are old watching the young
Between what is accepted as wanted
voyeuristic appreciation of a former season
And the unwanted perverse stroking of a tired past

While eavesdropping discretely
Into the conversation between an eclectic young man
And his significant other
A wild beauty
With blue Mohawk
And candied apple lip gloss

I heard him say
That the first night they made love
when he saw her shed her camo jacket
Her dress
Kick off her combat boots
And watched as they landed under his bed

He said that
he had prayed for the first time in a very long time
At that moment
He had prayed for their permanence
In his space

He said
He knew God again
As his eyes traced the gentle lines of her
And saw before him
A celestial soul
Who's body looked like it had been sculpted from the moon itself

The pretty girl wearing the blue Mohawk
Leaned into the young man's chest
She weeped softly
And he held her close
They stood quiet for a long while
rocking back n forth in the sweetest dance

Eventually I collected myself
My things
And excused myself unoticed
And walked away smiling
The loving scene still on my mind
Their faces and the peculiar way his eyes had shone
And prayed I would remember always
The earnest in them as he spoke of grace

Here is one  
Come undone  
Mentality smitten  
By the lunacy of love  

Mixed nut  
Vibrations
(The good good)  
Take hold  
And smolder  
Until outer shell  
charred  
now breaks  
  
cracked and peeking  
Out the meaty inside  
meets bite  
And tongue dips in  
like salt lick  
The taste  
I come back for more  
I cannot help it  
please more  
  
Daddy ...  
We do play so  
  
this un sinning  
Frivolous stroking  
peels like skin  
Layers and layers  
To find grey matter  
And it's off kilter wiring  
Attached to  
****** psyche  
And big heart  
  
On  
(See what I did there)  
  
Tee hee  
  
now poking through  
my solemn face  
And a smiles pride  
The smirk creeps into  

(Total faced)

apples of cheeky  
Wise cracking  
And wide, wide  
Knowing grinning  
  
See how I'm understood!?  
How I understand  
This man  
His kind of pretty  
kind of ways  
And a so so  
Capable grasp  
Of what areas to  
  
work on...  
And over  
please...umm  
  
(You know the word here)  
  
But I would hate to go too far  
I lie to you  
I really wouldn't  
Call me  
all in Jen  
on top of this one  
And back  
And forth  
  
****, to the next verse  
stanza  
(Then bend me over)  
  
Please  
  
@#@@%  
  
Now he's come  
  
Un done

It sat just beyond incineration
Swearing nonchalance with the great ease of a sociopath
It's jacket promising a "Good time at Larry's, bring a friend!"
Itself, lay alone and charred
If anyone had paid it any attention
One might have caught the sulfuric hint
of a mighty hell that had consumed whole
First Oxygen
And then home
And then for granted future
Of the hateful demon who had tossed the thing
And the red headed woman who had once laid beside him

The drip  
And delicacy of my eye
You imagine
It holds pity
You imagine  
It holds your favor  
And that I intuitively reach  
For your nerve
  
Some nerve
  
In all my resolve
A posture built of stone
And the stalwart mortar
Experience  
My wisdom sticky with it
  
Even against the Great Wall  
You helped lay
From cornerstone  
To turret and my stare from it
Even against this  
You blow
  
Silly fragile fragments
You expect  
To crumble tumble down  
  
And long gold locks  
Like the hair
I used to wear
You believe might spill over
Return to your pull
Of grooming  
Tight plaited  
Twisted curving
Insecurity  
  
Inebriated wit
Calculated curiosities  
Woven tightly  
Into my thought process  
When puberty
Hit with urge
  
Remorse
That I had left certain things behind
  
Laughter with you
Inside jokes
And shared knowledge  
A privilege meant
Only for us
  
An isolationist  
In your measure
Your way with me
You had  
But not quite  
proved  
Cold calculating  
Alienation
  
But oh father  
How I’ve sinned against  
The nature of things
  
In my head
To my knees  
With private mournful  
Accusations  
With the need for  
absolution from it
  
But with absolve  
I dissolve
  
So return to my eye
The drip she shines
When let loose
That shine  
She is not pity
And she is not for you
  
To my knees
With other things
  
A world who’s axis  
Is not you
A prayer to a God  
Who’s strangest angels
Do not sing  
In your tonality
  
A hallelujah chorus rise
Over your horn
And its shrill  
Efforts  
My walls
They hold

You pace
Ubiquitous loitering  
Like beggars hands holding a sign
Invading my cool condition  
Like the denim  
I’m worn and wearing
A white cotton T shirt and sly smile  
  
I see  
  
Black boots In the center of my floor
Tossed carelessly  
Soft whispers that want to rub  
Pleading eyes that would lay me down
Lay me down  
Until ******* find a place to hook themselves
Eager finger
Or corner of the chair
  
I really do not care  
  
The getting there would be triage  
To one part desire
One part anticipation  
(I can hold it in my hand and feel the heartbeat of its urgency)  
One part lonely walking  
Circling to running  
And skinned knees
  
Your breath on my youth and delivers me
My eyelash flutters
And the warm wind on my bare shoulder curves my pout
  
See my shirt as she shakes loose of my breast
My rib expands to take you in
I imagine your eye tracing the curve of your intake  
And down to the crux  
Of pink and tender
Warm and pulsing
To sip and suckle what I’ve left you
For you
  
It will be there
  
When finger slip
The ridge of white cotton  
(Gasp)  
As you trespass  
And find yourself in my wilds
Marked places  
Behind my eyes with memories  
Of a man that hunted there before you
I pray he lets loose that dominion
  
I know that the thought of your pace in my world  
Has me begging to be set free
It is a solemn pass when sovereign ghosts refuse to let go
  
Again
  
My little eye spies your boots  
On my floor  
I welcome the dirt and debris
I have been living in such sterile conditions  
I could use a little *****
  
Boy

Of these intense and voyeuristic
Thoughts, feelings
Both startling and perversely pleasant
Satisfying glances
Into you

Into me

This vicarious thrill
Urging my own needs
Wants
Desires
Unfulfilled longings
Unexamined resentments
Some vengeance
That lies un-manicured

(I witness and own my ulterior motives
though I swear by my good intentions)

The hedge is thick
And would be trimmed with hateful design

But those moments
Glances
Are unimportant now
And should lie dormant
Until that dwelling within me
Is vacated

I sweep my own porch
As thoughts of your thoughts
Nag
My empath touched
My own soul dusty and reminded

I push my broom harder
(Sigh and huff)

Outside my porch
As I perch on wooden steps
Built of hard work and waiting

My own garden looks so ....
So....

Without touch

Yours?
No
Your words
And their touch
Have lent to rich soil

I worry I have gathered myself the wrong
Seeds to sow
in this sunlight

after this harsh Winter

But I do see
rich soil

so thank you

And to my own promise
see in this reflection
A virtuosic blooming of self awareness
And proper amends

And then I arrive at the here and now of things
finally
and...
I feel surprisingly comfy in this space

apologies for my tardiness

But oh, the distractions
They do take me
And my willingness

It aches

He tromped steadily with vainglorious posture
Into dark and barbaric wood
The snap of root beneath him vibrated a high hat syncopation
Tisk tisk counterpoint to the thunderous
Boom and boom of violent step
  
He was a fortress of ability
Cloaked in musky matted brown and carcass of meal
The scent of which filled his moist ****** and intake of frosted forrest air
Filling giant lungs with monstrous roar
And raised his swinging head to shout a warning  
Unstopable emphasis shown  
By extension of bulk  
And arms squeezing menace between massive paws
  
This alarm echoed through shadowy expanses of Aspen and the Evergreen
Releasing a riot of wings  
And emptying the rookery
The Forrest felt the tick tock tick  
Of a grandfather clock's hollow chest and emptiness  
Desolation's silence became deafening
  
All activities of the normal lives of communal creatures were ordered:
Cease and desist  
And they burrowed and denned
They hid in shelters built for temporary oasis
And their hearts beat with mad desire for what lay outside of these spaces
  
They preoccupied themselves through the chaotic approach
Gathered well and nurtured their offspring with nut and berries
And well spent breath to calm claustrophobic urge
  
It would end
They knew that it would
But each time it felt as if the first time
When trouble encroached and compromised solidarities unit
singular minds often dream alike
Even the smallest of these  
Felt enormous in it's own existence  
  
The bear
And his sweltering cause  
Had brought new reminder to his domain
His bravado and grand display
breeding virtue and patience in spite of himself

Snowdrop

Now is the globe shrunk tight
Round the mouse’s dulled wintering heart.
Weasel and crow, as if moulded in brass,
Move through an outer darkness
Not in their right minds,
With the other deaths. She, too, pursues her ends,
Brutal as the stars of this month,
Her pale head heavy as metal.

Ted Hughes—

I understand the space in the brass
Airless no contempt, or ability to hold it
Tightly, round spring coiled around nothing
The Yo yo ing purpose of mice, mouse
Pursuits of the steel wool cut, itchy
Red abrasions cover heaving chest, loose
In the leg, furthering no where special
Connecting the four corners of the Earth
Ill conceived screams, curling under sharp toothy, to punch holes in the can
Scurry the string through, running the telephone line
Hello’s dreams, fears
Echos of clay and thud
The moisture in the ground is mud

The moisture in the ground is mud

The pooling reflects no light
And gathers the snow drops
With the remorse of it
She will surely die there
If only a smiling face to make an impression

My perception fades
And in the darkness
A sound  
Like the cry of the withering  
  
With careful place of soul to heap  
I carry my heart    
To what I fear may break it  
    
I envision....  
come hallowed grounds    
And the bodies that lie there  
in mass and lump  
fresh from hangman's noose  
    
Their penalty's might have been mine  
if I had had the nerve to reach them  
    
in my haze  
And a mighty aspiration called indifference    
My gaze had I diverted skillfully  
With enough success that i did not even recognise their cause  
    
I pray with soulless conjuring    
For their redemption    
And for my own  
Unwilling to own this duality  
    
For self and pardoning  
And only just..  ..  
    
I stitch a blindfold  
Of crushed red velvet    
And monogrammed on it a J  
In the prettiest blue  
    
The color of the sky    
Nowhere to be seen  
in all this midnight and black  
    
But I have loved this track  
it has covered me discreetly    
Like a clandestine lover    
I have run to meet it  
    
now this cry through the fog  
My awareness shocked to submission  
    
And my own body I have not touched  
in such a long...  
long time  
tremors....  
My knuckles streaked    
In reds through white and terrors grip  
    
My God relieve me  
And my soul what have I done?    
The cry...  
It is an echo  
It is my own and I feel it so deeply  
    
Like the scarecrow  
And the post he sits  
I feel I might slide right off of myself

To beat back the bear    
One must wear the fortress  
Of outward iron maiden  
    
A sneer and tortured intent    
Spiking steely eyes    
through triangulate of iris    
Sticking through it    
welling the blue    
And the belladonna    
Blooming through rage    
like primal    
feral crushing    
It glows and brightens the circle    
as if the whole sky were there    
    
En masse    
at large    
The posse en route    
Vigilante purpose violating all compact    
Builds the refugee    
And it's hovering camp    
    
it growls    
And grows    
too large and uncompromising    
Oh what nastiness,    
she shows sharp teeth    
    
To clamp and clang    
Down on it    
with the fury and force    
Of the whole    
Of the clan and brutal squeeze    
    
It might crimp the fortress    
And its shiny style    
Like the knights    
In a state of madness    
And their oddly worn smirks    
Would leave them alone    
    
Would they be fingerless  
And folly their way back home  
unable to remove themselves  
From the cloak  
And its vice  
now sweltering unimportant  
Enclosure  
  
And leave them exposed by harsh  
Sound and sight  
And the eyes of others  
Never having trampled  
Into their wilderness  
  
such spectacle  
Would be ghastly  
And devoutly remembered  
attached in the permanent mind  
And fearsome gesture there  
  
gesture would fly  
he would be unable to catch it  
But he would reach

Enter this cloud
Of nostalgia that tufts and rises  
Dark and billowy
Promising summer storms  
Of slanted rains  
Strong enough for redemption  
  
(They will be broken promises, it will blow much stronger than that)  
  
And any effect it might have on you  
This cloud  
With it's seriously thick ways  
Manifested *******  
To stick in skies  
That mean to be blue  
  
They just may cling  
And swamp you  
Dampen your skin  
Slick you with perspiration  
Like the afterglow of red hot lovers  
  
I swear by the residuals  
Of that atmosphere  
Where I store my most sensual  
And intimate memories  
They will cling tightly  
  
(And somewhat perversely on my part I might add)  
  
So high the humidity  
It's density in comparison to say. .  
Florida  
During hurricane season  
Similar...  
And as equally volitale  
  
I have imagined in the center of it  
The eye of the storm  
So to speak...  
A still life  
Of my cataclysmic genesis  
  
And have warped around it  
With twist and dark funneling  
Swirling justification  
Around all events following  
Eden and the walk out of it  
A naked shame  
  
Because it has been an eternity  
From here to that calm  
My feet are blistered with remorse  
I should be grateful  
For all the precipitation  
In this desert  
  
I should hold up my cup  
And let it be half filled  
when I am this thirsty  
  
(And then be able to offer a sip to you)  
  
But for now  
I can only offer entrance  
And this warning  
Alerting you to what you might weather  
And wear  
The heat and sweat  
The smell of bodies grinding unholy position  
  
.....the after effects of red hot lovers

He wears an open mind
Like barbed wire
Thoughts pricked
Circling
A championship stance ready
Out waiting the gait  
To un click and spring open
Hurled and pounced
Flat and broken  
Mind bugging slaughter house failure
**** boy twisted  
And gangsta leaned
New swaggering fueled
Ill intent  
Trades mind set
For black heart  
Clank
Downed iron walls  
Downed time  
And street apprenticeship  
All bared bones  
And ivory closure
All turkey and no jive
Calls himself sweet feet  
In the canteen line
Mood fine seemingly  
But in the letter
An I miss you baby
Hold me down he begs
The phone line is long
But hear me calling
I never did  
She fails to see
The barbed wire  
Had sealed his fate
Thorny sting  
And a Mother gone
To too much  
His life had been never enough
But excess  
Of pseudo freedom
Piles of postcards  
And unused stamps  
Delivered
No where special
Days and days of trailer park revival  
And pressing a bunk
calamity’s currency  
Provides peanuts for clamshells  
Steamy art
And shadowed textures
The tattoo gun sting
Provides your name  
On his ***
And whipped into fury  
By slow trickled tepid shower
Regret slowly smirks his frown
His assault on liberty  
Bloodies his fist
Full contact sport
With solid walls  
Exhausted by the effort  
No strike will un loose them
He has lost so much
To permanent hold

It comes to me this season  
An urge to blow the bloom  
into
This day
And watch it float on the wind  
  
In this light  
It would be  
An awesome spectacle  
Like an apparition  
Of phantasmic spiral  
Twirling into its seek  
The darkness a great ride for it  
And platform to coast it's colors  
  
Though they fade  
They would surely fade  
And be nothing  
  
I had felt this  
And done it  
And would not do it again  
  
I cannot blow along  
Familiar winds  
  
But new currents have come along  
And hooked the corners of my smile  
urging itself  
To spread wide against the O  
And my uncalm  
Inhaled  
At odds with with the corners of  
What I am  
Used to  
  
I breathe through it  
And the lovely  
Ease and it's scent exists easier  
Inside me  
Daily  
  
When pigments of new petals  
Turn blue  
I dip and streak it  
Into indigo slant  
across page  
Delivering my self free of the shade  
But not the rise of it  
To the sun  
  
not the totalling of it to my whole  
And it would be if ...  
  
But I don't  
I am much too eager  
To let it lie and rest a little  
To meet myself I've cast into  
the role played convincingly  
  
My own shadow  
And see her grow out of it

In forested moonlight        
Scattered pale blues            
And caught the flank of a midnight            
Black            
            
And there was gripped            
For a brutal moment            
The wild of the beast            
Then shot fear and thundering pound       into the Earth            
Where it was absorbed and held            
For a Mothers arms are always willing      
        
It was heard in the beasts hit of hooves   And in its eyes like a drowning pool            
the question Why            
            
But no answer was given            
Though she lamented            
Its Mother only shook her head            
soft smile passing from knowing  
mouth    
In utter juxtapose from feelings felt            
            
The beast slowed its pace            
As confusion touched apathy            
It harbored its clip            
Its shoulders shrugging            
Dawning its harness as the sun rose ready            
            
And daylight saw Man's dominion            
It rose and gave over to a gentler master
the fate of the wild
in Woman's hands            
And though quite capable            
she was sadly so            
In all her certainty            
She was very sad to watch the wild go

Iove is a young green willow shimmering at the bare wood's edge
    
She bends, soft hands gracing the waters edge...sending blue green echoes of her laughter out to give company to the tad poles who miss their Mama's low croaking lullaby....they wriggle gladly and extend brand new webbed digits to embrace their siblings....tad pole giggles, how wonderful! She rises back up, gleaming, as tiny droplets of pond water cling to her limbs, glowing iridescent in the sun.    
      
5.  the wind at nightfall bending the rose    
      
He had fallen fully for her the first time he saw her. She had danced naked and alone in the gloaming, tall and beautiful. He caught a hint of her extraordinary perfume and was moved to sweep in placing forceful hands in the small of her back, and dip her. She shook as his lips graced her long neck and landed with gusto on her ruby red lips.    
      
2.  beneath the quiet heaven of your eyes    
      
He had rode on the backs of ponies painted like a Monet, their flare of Nostrils exhaling grand snorts and their hooves smashing into the high plains, creating a thundering cacophony....and knew what it was to appreciate the enormity of quiet that followed after in those black hills. But the first time he caught the first glimmer of love in her eyes, he felt true stillness, peace in the grand expanse of her undying gaze.    
      
4. your thighs are appletrees your knees are a southern breeze    
      
He extended a strong hand up, longing to pick her ripe and red delicious. The apple of his eye. As of yet remaining just out of his meaty reach....until she parted white cloudy thighs, and a warm ***** breeze swept in to let fall his bounty.    
      
5. It is only a moment, we die every night    
      
Goddess Moon loved Sun....proudly, fiercely. And Sun loved her back, but had been unerved at how rude his Goddess had been to his sweet old aunts, Nymbus. Slow in their old age, they wandered by in a dizzying creep past his window in their old fashioned, billowy skirts. Sun had never raised his voice to Goddess, but when she scolded his favorite auntie Cumula for obstructing Moons view of Sun for too long he forgot himself and shouted....    
      
For Goddess sake! Its just a moment! We die every night!

See the lizard with the walking stick
An absurd rhythm  
It applies to a scurried gate
For fashion it would suit him
Only if he were made
A hat band  
For my houndstooth fedora
  
The green flash
And blue feather
Would bring out my eye
  
I eye him  
With a curiosity
And enough desire now
To make his skinny neck gulp
  
A new bejiggity  
Gitter up and go
Now see him drop the stick
He fast approaches frantic
And also drops his tail
  
The fine neon stripe  
Of tail had done him much less damage  
Than the stick
Both attempts at vanity
Utter failures in the end
  
I pick them up both
Twirling one on my left finger
One on my right
See the stick
She matches my fine shoes
See the neon flash of tail
Now curling from my pocket?  
  
Don’t his tail make the perfect  
Company for the green in my eye?

While snapping green beans

I sit in the sun today  
Presently it is gorgeous
And always subject to change  

There is music in my ears  
Pokey Lafarge  
Wailing  
"I need something to, **** me up!"  
It is down home muddy water wailing  
I am snapping beans  
Grinning at the pop  
And eating what drops  
  
The music changes  
"But nothing, is never ending.."  
In my headphones  
And I consider this  
And look at the familiarity in my hands  
They are my grandma's knuckles  
As they bend the beans and I hear them spit  
Easily manipulating 3, 4 at a time  
I see her in them so clear  
And I see my mother bent over a row  
And I see my youth beside her  
  
The woman's voice in my ears  
Is throaty and ****  
Now I find a sensuality in the task  
It's intent to pleasure the receiver  
To see the look on their face filled with what's in the spoon  
And feel a peculiar satisfaction  
The pleasure of pleasuring  
And it might be afternoon  
And it will feel like mid day love making  
The serious and just must have you  
Delicious kind  
  
"And nothing is never ending.. "  
Oooh ooh ooooh...  
I sing and drop the green beans in the ***  
The onion and bacon, the fat grey mushrooms  
I wonder if my mother ever felt this way  
I bet so, hope she still does  
I see her in the kitchen, my step dad  
And her way with him  
And my Grandma  
With my Grampa  
Hope she did  
I bet so  
That would have been something strange to understand back then  
But now..  
Oooh oooh oooh...  
  
"Nothing, is never ending...  "  
  
I miss my husband today  
It is not often I do this much  
When this *** is done  
There are many hands that will be anxious for the spoon  
But none with the look in his eyes  
They would simmer through the swallow  
Into mine and drown them with stimulating appreciation  
  
The last weekend I had with my son  
I taught my future daughter in law to crochet, just she and I  
It was a sweet few hours  
The next time I can  
I will show her how to make a good *** of green beans  
  
Oooh ooh oooh...  
"Nothing, is never ending.."  
I think the lady might be mistaken

Of the stars and nights
Circling into
Yellow and circular more
Twist roll out to blues
That twist the black hope
And steeple
Of the people
That would shudder to think

He walked among them
And would dream this
And see it into stroke

Deliver the back break
And gold fields
Of wheat
To the edging black wings
They edge the pickers
They weigh their burden
And carry into
Sudden night

To see a man
As he sees himself
And cannot hear
the left of himself
Or see the right of it

And a red haired madman
Holds our discomfort
And the utter
Beauty of it
Bristles through
With raving disclosures
Bristles splayed blue and black

Much as if the bruises to
An unowned sanity
And his fear of going unnoticed
But oh the irony
Of the insane existence
Of genius
And it’s departure

Of color
And it’s carry on
Through spirit
And inspiration
Wherever it is found
It has been proven
More formidable than death
A formidable opponent

Indeed

I
Ask for the blessing
I ask for your eye  
And knowing smile
  
When seeking  
And carving out
The brutal travels of hands
In ****** earth  
Of time  
Its squeeze of dirt  
Hiding footprints  
With the elliptical youth of days
Their revolution  
Into hardened tidiness  
  
I climb stories up
And time flings back
Into the recesses
To find cool and gentle rooms  
Where solitary men  
Had left red woven  
Rugs and charred prayers
Of rolling wax  
And a match to strike  
  
I begin it again
The flame is yellow  
It dances  
And sees me
I take this as a nod
A gesture of deliverance
  
And stand
  
Gazing out of doors  
To skied God
And the bellied drop below me
Tempts me to fall into it
Hurdle me from myself
Cry for mercy in my plummeting  
Wide awake to the impact  
And full force  
Of ground to belly
And my face to the desert floor
  
This is Set
  
I remember the cool chamber
My grip on the outcropping to pull up
The light that flickered
And how it found me
The dance of days on my skin
And in my head  
And from my tongue  
  
While laying here
While crumpled and cracked
With the body of utter defeat
With miserable failure  
My aspect and injury
  
I ask for the blessing  
I ask for your eye
And knowing smile
  
I begin it again
The flame will be yellow  
In my sight skied God  
And below me the fall

Here it is the time  
Of climbs
By the side
Of men who reach
With clank  
Of armored  
Coats
gruff suits of musk
And little afterthought
  
But you reach  
Through the smoke
As if it were only dusk
And the twilight of it
Would be spread by  
Love  

(We breathe it in and your grin)
  
I might shower in your perfume
Have it sprinkle like rain  
To think of you often
  
(Again and again)  
And remember  
To not hide my heart away
No shelter from life
could be worth
Avoiding its pain  
  
I have seen you take life  
Its shrapnel  
Plinking  
Again and again...  
again and again
  
And breathe even deeper  
Through the daggers dig
And stand higher  
Still
To take the fall
  
What balance hides in those cheeks
And the tender time  
Slung below your eyes
They show your age
Your beauty and wisdom  
  
With each blink  
That sets you down
I rise comfortably there  
And prepare myself to hold you
As you have held my journey in your care
  
You grant me this  
By your grace
You teach me this  
In your every way
  
(A chorus because it would please you)
  
My Mother you’ve sung
Of love and death
Mother you’ve rocked me to sleep  
My Mother you’ve whispered my shame away
And allowed me my secrets to keep
  
(An afterthought and prayer)
  
I lay down tonight  
A vision of you  
Moonlight on your knees
A soft touch of breeze  
To ease you from the remnants  
Of this long summers day
And know I would care  
To hear you strum your guitar
Sit beside you and sing
A song of the hills
And would know its worth  
The scars I might find there  
The pain they might bring  
  
And watch you whistle out to the black dog
His pant as he heels at your side
His sniff of home  
Un loitering  
And I would understand his condition  
Completely  
His look of peace in chocolate eyes
That transcends mere loyalty

I had cried out for home    
In the midst of all out wreckage  
An onslaught of bad days  
Bad people    
Bad things to do    
To good people    
To feed a bad habit    
    
There lay my bad seed soul on the filthy carpet    
I had rolled on it    
I had taken a nap on it    
And the polyester fibers    
Had attached themselves to my brain    
The pseudo soft mesh of red *****    
twisted into grey matter    
    
And I cried out for home    
God I believe    
And no words for him    
Aside from that thing    
In my tummy    
Wrenching that I needed him    
    
And to the alleys again    
Once more in the morning after    
I pulled myself up    
Sticky faced    
And mouth curved an OG grin    
With hip walk down lick street    
My lean serious    
My intent Ill    
The illest    
    
Then behind me sirens spin    
‘‘Twas the cop    
From the night before    
Or, the night of    
Whenever    
Or the day I    
And I probably did    
I don’t remember    
    
But he was sure of it    
And my wrists were soon tight with steel    
Key lock    
And pale faced feeling    
Drained to my knees the rest of me    
Slid into seat    
Customary head tuck    
And to county jail    
    
Booked in    
****** up    
Off grin    
I had been too tired    
To argue much that stripes and numbers were not my color    
    
I was going to stay a while    
A little vaca a go go    
Hell no you can’t leave    
But    
At last a place to really sleep    
And eat    
(Insert here any form of gelatinous ooze)    
    
And just to break the serious monotonous    
Time......    
....................(you cannot imagine what whir lies between those kind of) ........ticks....    
    
I found my hustle    
  
For a beautifully    
Artfully    
Passionately rendered Madonna and child I did for a stud broad    
She traded me three e gig filters    
(I shoved up my *******)    
Aughhh...    
“nicotine baby, hadn’t seen you in a while.”    
    
And I considered this    
And I asked why    
She had fortuned my ****** with this wealth    
    
A big woman they called Squirrel    
Who had sported stripes on the daily    
And would be for 15 plus more years    
Said to me    
“Because I need to make these grey walls home.”    
She stuck up the Madonna    
With toothpaste and spit    
And sat down to pray    
    
And here’s the thing    
About God    
And    
About stud broads called Squirrel    
Both have quite the surprising answers    
To questions    
You ask    
Or prayers you did not know you’d cried out    
    
Prayers like    
I want to go home    
  
And big bad women    
With our lady of perpetual hope    
Lightening the dark of their eye    
Show you how to make it

When were you cast out Brother?
I had named you
Adam
Your woman still lies
In great beauty  
Red hair spilled on the desert floor
Great sands pillowing against  
Open thighs
As sometimes
In its infinite piling
As it would be rough
With your fingertips  
Pressed  
Preparing her for entry
  
Sweet tendrils  
Wrap vermillion and dark
Like the cinder curling of  
My word as it burns
The ink bleeds mankind
Into ashen wandering  
And back again  
To dust
In only the blink of my eye
  
It is not the fragile kind
My weeping  
The tears have purpose
And would filter in  
To flood this valley of loss
And wipe it new
And not without her
  
One existing soul  
Will grow and thrive and exist  
In another’s body
To dance and sing with the great spirit  
Of thousands
A sound mind  
And purpose  
That survived outside  
Of the red tent
Even without the hand  
of Jacobs lead

I have stroked my way
through great lengths
And currents    
Of uncertainty    
    
Come ripple    
Come shoot  
And it seems    
In this moment    
I did not miss  
    
It's pull  
Through doubt  
Through once devastating    
Remorse  
That had grabbed my ankles  
To tug me under  
    
To see my face    
In airless whisper  
Bubbles of scream    
I could not muster    
Rise  
And rise slowly    
And swallow into it  
    
Hollow panic    
I could not choke    
But only beg for wind  
Until I surfaced    
To the welcoming sun    
And beloved movement  
    
To float into    
Destination    
Would have been lovely  
To ride Christ like    
Down blue waters    
Seems choice    
However unattainable    
    
I can only imagine  
Caressing the ease and cool    
With fingers that did not curl    
With desperation  
    
But that was not my case  
Was not my stream    
Was not my river    
    
I imagine Congo bends  
And U shaped turns    
Of ambiguity and great confusion  
Or the dense and uncharted    
Regions of the Amazon    
And like minded    
Extreme    
Highly unpredictable    
Pourings  
    
And in them I would recognise    
My journey  
And feel kinship    
And great pride    
In spite of the struggle  
And uneven pace of my dig  
    
For every stroke has taken me    
to where I am  
And away from where I've been
  
I let the residuals  
Drip down my thigh
I finger them from my hair
And am reminded  
Of the hard motion  
And deep waters that cling
  
I sigh and watch them  
fall from my skin
And direct my gaze
And satisfaction  
Up and towards the sky

I had entered the blue lights
And fog of the joint
Mostly to become oblivious
Tip of elbow
And Gin colicky
By sunken treasured
Green olive
No pimento
To dissolve through the juniper taste
Salty swill
And swilling

And would to the extent
Of almost un noticing
The cantor of would be stallions
Surrounding my ******
Their prance intent
On heightening my heel
A good five inches
That oblivion
Hooked
Spiked over
Curved steel
To balance Gin effects
Over the bottom of
The barstool

A mighty swig
Or two or five
Might notice their buck
And haws enough
To grind stilettos
Into dance floor
The Stones in the mix
Pivoting my drunken hips
Enough to cradle a hand
Or three

Enough to squint against
Red rimmed eyes
Displace my empty
With a poor replacement
Cheap thrills
Vain attempts
At “No”
That came out of my
Movements
“Yes”

But soon the ponies ran
As anger bent ****
And flooze
Into something ugly
Curved and toppled over
To the floor
That did not deserve red shoes
Or top shelf
Anything

As hard as I try
I cannot remember dissolving
I do not remember the hands
That tried to catch my fall
On my way down
To fast escape

By my stool
(The second from the end near the tray of olives and maraschino cherries)
There might be a marker
That reads
“Here lies Jen, you should have seen her drink”

In that world there were a lot of maybes
I just don’t know

Like salted wet
And slipping through the grass
Between thighs spread
Parted clouds of white
And peeking sun
The shine
The welcome
And brilliant effects
On shining face

of the sea
Of rocking
of the moon
Dazzling the shell
its pink to pearl
By your bit of sand

From pooling stillness
tidal build will find its heights
It comes
Announced by a cry of God
And your name only
And it will smack down upon you

Flesh soakened
And seared
My stamp put on your neck
By ankle kisses
Below each cheek
Poseidon’s blush
A fever of rush
And sweet urge

The clover
Scent you cut
By each turn of phrase
And hidden glance towards me
By every revolution of your tongue
And nuance
Not so subtly imposed

It turns towards the sky and breathes freely
Shouts itself into the breeze
With the abandon
Of the dandelion
Where once she sheltered herself
By yellowed residue
On fumbling fingers

We had kept discord
In mason jars
Wrenched the spiral tightly  
With ape ****** dexterity  
And nodded politely as we placed them on the shelf  
  
The tippy toe effort  
To reach them again  
Enough to keep them dusty  
And in this kitchen  
With all the tasks to do  
Mindless chatter here  
A hungry man there  
  
They go unnoticed  
Until another is closed  
And placed beside its brother  
Swirling discontent and sloshing sound  
In the others  
No longer clear  
And the breaking down  
  
Today it is toast and jelly  
And alone with the sound  
Of crusty spread and scrape  
The bite warm and sweet  
  
I think I will clean house  
Toss the old and rotting into the bin  
With pleasing thump into bagged bottom  
And heave it out of my house  
The burden on my shoulder  
Easy  
  
When considering the great burden  
Of time wasted  
And jarred resentment fermenting  
My peace coldly interrupted  
By seemingly innocuous canned goods  
  
And it might just be that simple  
Or, it might not  
Either way  
I might just be ok  
(I’ll be just fine)  
  
I’ll write it all down in ***** metaphor  
To place the comfort of spiritual logic  
By bits and pieces within me  
Practice believing it  
Until it is a wholehearted effort  
And ability  
That mirrors faith  
  
(To be well within my soul)  
I am well within my soul  
I sing it like my grandfather  
During a Baptist revival by an Ozark river  
  
He seemed very happy  
Was a Godly man  
Salt of the Earth made by a God he knew well  
And my Grandma  
She kept plenty on her shelf  
She opened them for us  
(Peach preserves spread liberally)  
And everyone was happy there  
  
I do not remember being alone a day  
Even when I was
  
So this chore done
Spreads good news in my house
(Home)
I emphasize this word
Home
And believe it makes the difference
Enough to still my tummy
And lift my shrug
Apple my cheeks a while
  
I will fall to my knees  
Each time I feel whole
It has been a long while
And I am ever so grateful
So very blessed  
And I should be
Grateful  
For many many things
The greatest of these
Love
The following peace
The affirmation a comfort far beyond  
Anything I might place politely on a shelf

Un careful placed tongues    
Slipping knot poetry    
To be sure      
To swing      
And unable to hit      
      
Like a falling dream      
A dream where you fall    
Brace for it..    
But you wake in the middle      
The bottom      
It stays in the distance    
      
No bottom of it      
Of words      
Sliding out from under you      
Slipping from desperate grasp      
      
White knuckles curl the syllables      
The meaning of them      
Clenched in its palm      
Full of the map      
The born in tree      
      
Knowledge      
Intuitive like      
      
But wrapped tightly      
By the struggle      
By pride      
By counterintuitive impulse      
The likes of it      
Unholy      
      
(To most)    
    
Few would condone it      
Many would do it      
      
I often feel like saying it      
Often it enters my body like blasphemy      
      
And it rock shocks      
Grabs warm places      
Digs and I buck    
And then    
And then...  
      
I want to ****      
Like a kicking mule      
And a gone bad woman      
      
On the edge      
Sitting pink on the verge      
Of clamped tight      
Spasm      
And its lie awake at night      
........ rocket      
      
Rocket      
      
Rocket....  
  
Phew...  
      
I breathe heavy      
Like a time lapse photo      
Of an obscure      
Underwater creature      
Whose movements ****      
In reds      
And shocking      
Bright      
Neon blue      
      
Pulse    ....
..... ..  
      
And ads plenty      
To dark depths      
Of uncharted territories      
The Mariana Trench      
And ungodly bottomless holes      
Found right smack      
In the middle      
Of a desert      
      
Right smack in the middle      
Like a      
........rocket      
      
Shoot...

I have tired eyes  
For behind me sleeps the dying  
They would punish me  
If I’d let them
They are capable
And the withering of their bodies
The curling in their fingers
Are mine
  
Fringed hoods droop
Obscuring the future  

Wide  
It is vast and blank  
Not empty  
But alive in its gesso white  
Brilliant and blinking  
  
Blue highways  
Turned canvas to take me  
And be  
Just be  
Breathe ....  
What I exhale meets the next moment  
  
As cars scream by  
They go so fast  
And  
It has been my suffering  
Strapped to the backseat  
I see my reflection in the rear view  
I am reluctantly drawn to catch my eye  
Her hold  
Pulls me back  
Tightens the buckle  
  
The lane continued without me  
Before  
Would do it again  
I am not willing  
  
The brush dots the median
It is my stroke  
  
The next town  
And it’s roadside attraction  
In cages  
For a minutes wild regard  
Of pedestrian exotica  
Nature timid and tamed  
Turn tailed to the tide  
Of oppression  
Seething counter intuitive  
Self destruction  
He paces complacency  
And laps his pride  
Like milk  
  
What opportunity  
Ability lost  
And the man  
With rotting teeth  
Bent core  
Holds the whip  
His sneer bends its tail  
Striped yellow with black  
And camouflages great promise  
  
I will pass it by  
With heartache  
And simply refuse my curiosity  
To indulge it  
Would be my key in the lock  
  
I can only pray  
That the caged finds in him  
Power and revolt  
Enough to rock itself  
And bust the barn wood  
Twisted steel through the dusty old  
Porch of his keeper  
The man in filthy bibs  
Holding a leather whip  
And spitting terror  
And unholy demise  
Of what would be wild  
  
It is enough today that it is not me  
Tired eyes  
Staring out of bars  
And shameful need  
Shaking hands reaching through  
Clutching at things  
That are not mine  
  
Tomorrow I will wake again  
And be down this road further  
I hope to find my feet dusty  
Dirt roads can seem endless  
Mine sure as hell did  
But I would enjoy  
A long stretch ahead of me  
And in it’s scenic bends  
Sights of things  
That I love  
And familiar faces  
Grinning a willingness to be there

The days clouds creating shattering, shadowing furnaces,  
None of us could stand so close  
To your ceiling an ocean, eyes of a lid in glowing coal  
  
Tempering a fragile strange stare, an old awe,  
Glassware that was passed to us  
When we were young,  
Looking up so frail,  
They rise to their grave,  
Harbour in the sky  
In the bolt of an eye  
  
The godly sins where sunshine ends,  
The things you say with the fury you took in the fall  
Nameless gods put up your road block,  
Play your show and roar  
How could we kneel?  
How could we be smaller?  
When you recognize the fear in our eyes  
With an impulse to split us in two.  
  
Afternoon light is dimmed, heat  
Subdued,  
Clouds  
Lending the  
Whole, a soft  
Cloister, thunderous  
Reverberations  
Grumbling  
In the  
Atmospheric  
Periphery, just  
Strong  
Enough,  
To be felt  
  
It is cool here  
The sky is calling as well  
Pregnant with rain,  
Hovering mass potential  
Wicked winds  
Eminent  
But her currents wear  
Silent mouth  
  
It is still enough  
To just be in it,  
Sticky with its dark  
Sweat clings  
To show its worth  
Closing in  
On permanence  
  
Like time is its currency  
And it might come down  
In silver coin  
That it would be imprinted  
The face of Nero  
And not  
The stamp of God  
  
What God exists  
In silver or  
By face  
By name at all  
Nevertheless  
The rain  
Its burden approaching  
So that we do not fiddle  
Or burn it down  
  
The electric in the sky  
A great battle, this  
Its inner turmoil fights  
Corrupts  
And blankets the sky  
Purple,  
Neon flash of a gate keeper without sword  
  
And perhaps it takes a little madness,  
A delicious drop, a  
Perfect  
Accent ingredient,  
A willingness to  
Bear  
The transformative  
Embrace  
Of naked flame,  
To love forces that  
Threaten with glowering black  
Brow, lowered to an angle  
That can  
Only  
Conclude  
In collision  
And ruin, twisted  
Horns protruding above a  
Neck  
Thick  
With muscle, which promises  
Only  
To ultimately  
Overcome us  
And all we've wrought  
In cold iron,  
Threaded in tightly  
Woven  
Rivets,  
All  
We've erected,  
For our enduring names sake,  
Rent to idle tatters with  
Great  
Chaotic  
Strides,  
Nameless gods, unconcerned  
With our rites  
  
Gods that uproot our long  
Cherished  
Hopes, secretly  
Harbored, too  
Precious  
To be  
Uttered, for fear they'd  
Flash  
And  
Dissipate  
Upon contact  
With the air  
  
Gods with the flippant  
Grin of a street corner  
Illusionist, with a flourish of  
Fluid  
Movement and practiced  
Ease, unmake  
The earth,  
Beneath our feet  
And erase,  
Our hand me down names  
  
This is how it goes  
With myself and the Magician  
And the Observer  
Of natural law  
When things with subtle edge  
Like talk about the weather  
Like a description of three different skies  
Unite in the mind’s eye  
  
The reverb of heart  
Blends into one sight  
A universal speculation  
Of what might come down  
And the parts of it that matter

There lives in the everyday
On a Wednesday late morning sidewalk
Of grimy city and in the small town
In the overcast of pregnant skies

Just plain folks
Blind enough of their own ego
To wear an immunity of self like a concrete saint

You see them in timeless pause
And watch in awe and ache
As blue and grey birds
With eyes as cloudy as your skies
Rest peacefully on their fingertips
Nurturing fat bellies with morsels of a sacred stillness

Eve's daughter in apron and wide skirt Hides apple bottom            
And her most delicious dish              
              
Bow tied behind slim waist              
Waits primly for her sweet meats              
And man              
              
Greets him              
Drink in hand              
An expert mixologist              
              
Creates the perfect coctail              
For her perfect ****              
              
2 parts Grand Marnier              
2 parts Ginger beer              
Splash of lime juice              
Garnish with:              
Very secret ingredient              
Sugar n salt rim stuck by oooey gooey vaginal slick              
              
Classy Dark 'n stormy              
And her mood              
              
🐍 Little does Eve's child know, her ***** duties are being watched and glasses are being raised, celebrating her desires and place in the world. A nightly gathering of would be saints and angels fallen in with sin raise their glasses and cheer "Salute!". Her *** inspired recipe's collected and kept dear in their hearts and hard ons. An **** like feast of delicacies are ravished,  savoring each bite, flavour like no other foods on Earth or in the heaven's. Key ingredient, the succulent female juices coaxed by fruits and the fruits of man.

At times I’m purely shocked by the living
And then
Beats
And I believe life
Might be
A world within
A sociopaths dreamscape
If and when they dream

If and when their ground exists beyond
The next footfall
Steps fall
They thud their ******* boots
And pound my paranoia

My march of heart
But do I feel
Deeply
At all
Too much?

It could all be this
And ....

Then again
My sugar might be low
Or
I should eat a banana
(As a powdered jelly filled corrupts my face)

Oh yes,
Much better
The next human that passes
And meets my eye
I will see the undead there
And his heart
On blue sleeve

(I just said heart on, and wonder if they exist either)

Not for the faint I whisper to the dead

(I see dumb people)
Why are they still speaking?
Like a talking head
I say something once
Why say it again

The alive
Seem so sheltered by the status quo
(Suffocated?)
Umbrella’d

The next storm
The big wind that blows
Even if all around me neon blue
Light and crack
(Gripping crack)

Even if all around me this...
I am determined to have mine blown
Upright
And melt into it

Just tip my chin skywards
And melt before I drown in it
(And peel my banana, for I’m sure to survive it.)

Is it truth,

For the hopeless and lost
With arms extended
From tired bodies
No burn left in them
And fingers wave
Symbiotic water flow
A free fall
From a quiz life
And the buzzing of it
Gone

Though the reaching still tries to breech
And pound
And claw their way
Out of it
The eclipse and filthy whole
Muddy with grasping
Parched from searching
Is it ever finding?

A way back home

A face contorts
The question why screamed
And floats away on silence
And it's cloud
So...
With almost no options
And grey hair thinning
Wired and running from his head
he ties his reasoning on the leg of a homing pigeon
He does not realise
In all his disturbance
That they flew off into non existance
That this logic will not fly

Or ever return to it's keeper

A thumbnail sketch
Of a face grinning youth
now tethered
With leather strip
binding itself to arched claw
And staked grounding
To prevent itself from
Ever leaving
Cooing up and away from self
And swallowed by skies
Of foreign, aging foreverness

The palpable infininate
Misplaced
Switched at birth
One story goes...
And still others laid out
And in the cards

The hands that placed them
old and paper skinned
Veins of wisdom poking through
pulsing calm and slow
Trees of knowledge
run ease in the lines of her palm

Her eyes are met
With great fear
terrifying roars of uncertainty come out of swallowing throat
And he sinks back in
And down into unknowing
joining other hands
That wag and claim
Need
And try to earn our pity

beg to be plucked
And lifted out of
And answered

He owns a world
In his own right
he owns a world of masked sight
And a bliss
When watched on one side of it

but on the other
One notices
he is either dead
Or in the dreadful state of not quite dying
And that he has closed hellish gates
On what lay outside of these
To pity this
I might warrant it
Might enter them and hear the swing

but to lay compassion in his hand
I do defy condemnation
I do earn my own reward
and breathing state
In the eternal
I will know absolution
I will grasp truth
And squeeze it into a diamond

I decrease in this winter worship of you
Nights of dark wine
Stain my lip
You had left your blood on my tongue
I tasted it
And had thought to drink more
My desire beyond the fruit  
In the iron  
  
A skin like  
Delicacy  
The nature of my ways
Taken and broken  
The ****** burst  
Dripped to white sheets  
And was counted
  
I would like to feel like white again
Would dwell in that cerebral cloud
For an eternity  
Would walk  
Bare foot placed with serene forward  
Calm  
The grace of youth  
The mercy of not having to  
  
Remember  
Need  
Want  
Know
  
Have any doubt  
About what one touch  
One taste of you again passing  
My connoisseurs lip
Might do to me
  
The Earth collided and cooled  
In the time it took for you to leave me
  
Minutiae  
Details like hot stones
Linger  
When held in my hand  
Warm calm and its effects
  
But the calx
Of anything worthwhile  
Still dries red  
And owns little residual value
By any apothecaries standards  
Worth his salt  
  
You flake away
Fly into the wind
The scatterings a mess
And leaves only a spirits agent  
To show prophetic map
To nowhere sacred
  
Well hidden under etched statuary  
Of dark wings
And angelic gaze veiled and obscured
Rounded mound holds the body of my faith  
  
But the most of me still exists  
Outside of this  
And roams the red droplets  
Eluding to destination  
A map charted on cotton  
So long ago
And far away
That my memory has become a maze
  
A prized labyrinth  
Of memoria
And nocturnal emissions  
  
I so often wake from my dreams  
spent
  
But my virtue does not lay
Within my dreams
She lies at the feet
Of where you once stood
And spread your arms to shadow me

Your arms hover no longer
Your swing does not fly shade
Like swift ghosts
Across my face
While iron lingers on my tongue

I begin to shake with capability
The woman of me slinks back into my soul
And kisses the forehead of my girlhood

The squaw that stroked the camel's sack had finally dun herself in.      
She looked into the eyes of the beast,        
and became powerful frightened of his wicked grin!        
Oh Holy Moly how that one stroke too far had engorged his needed ****....        
She saw her touch had unleashed a devlish urge and swallowed hard with a lump..        
Swollen from lust..        
And in need of a ******...        
He pawed his hooves at the ground..        
Never in her short sqaw life had she heard anything snortin such a hellacious sound!        
Then she saw the enormous size        
of the thing she had rized..        
And the camal hocked a big ol spit..        
The sweet lil thang Cherokee hollered, and her mocassins took her off lickety split..        
He came chargin right behind her, bound and determined, nostrils round n aflared..        
Man! You should have seen that purty lil squaw runnin, by gawd she was ascared!!!

Let’s get down to the nitty gritty
Bare ***** and its industry
(Fast results with a whimper and grunt)
Un cult swept mind and cellophaned
Rap
The straight Dope
Shoots
Entered in and parsing syntax
... dot dot dot
And sequence flumox
(It would be comfy to hide in its safe design like euphemism discourage)
The algorithm
Betrayed by my feminine wiles
(Only gloves off intuition and sweet logic)
My smile speaks your truth
A parsed pout
Divulged your bulge
And whispered into your ear

“I would like to know you too Sir”

Scar tissue like finger trails
Placed roughly at times
The self induced wounds weave
Round and pink like threads of a worn down quilt
and at times it does not cover my feet
My body shakes off the cold
My head eases into pillows of thought
Calm placed angel faced considerations
And arching white bones cradle my heart
Rocking its pump and burn
To lull my scream
And cause my hoods to flutter
Until they are down
And pose on my cheeks like Monarchs
Orange and black fragile illusions
That become my gatekeepers
Of sweet dreams
And into the night
A delicate sleep
If one could stand over
And count on their fingers
The fitful probabilities
They would not have enough
My tall keeper in his dark shell
would become worn down
By the burden
And collapse his frustration into the corner and its rocking chair
Unaware that its squeak and squeak
Is shooosh girl and temporary blessing
My mother had rocked me like this
The sound of it a lullaby
And warm breath on my soft head
Peace
But this night I am alone
And have only the culminations of my past to cover me
As the gatekeepers I imagine hover my cheeks
I am unafraid to go it this way
Even if my dreams plump the scars
My blanket would be fuller
Its thread count higher
With understanding
And richer with the color of my being

It’s as if these hills hold a second sight  
The sycamores when still and silent  
Ghostly white and they weep for the empty rookery  

The heron
Just as pale and blue  
Stand an apparition on the banks  
Lonely for the colony and its need  
He is smoke to my water  
The current moves me through his gaze  
Holds me there through the bend  
And then I drift beyond it  
  
He remains  
like my history  
And its fog of memory  
To keep the edge  
To eye the flow  
Dig capable whistled leg  
Into pale hues of fossils  
And time placed compression  
Impressions of my used to be  
  
The prowlers with yellow eyes  
Curve and sweep  
The startling screech  
Cries fear  
Into the calm of all this  
Beauty  
But often eerie  
And foreshadowing quiet  
Brushy tails shiver my good sense  
  
I will go to the river  
And strip down to nothing  
But the peach of me  
And the wonder in my regard  
Of all of this  
And its spiritual entry into my being  
Dive in and feel my soul float  
Out of the cool caress of my skin  
  
The night and its moon  
Will color me an *******  
But pale mood  
To suit the atmosphere  
And its esoteric tastes  
I will be a mystic here  
And chant my name to the stars

Let me start by swearin my attraction to an occasional dusty ol juke joint was no cliche preachers daughter rebellion.    
A good American girl, loved my Daddy, Jesus,  and both their good names.      
But the appeal and anononimoty of the sin and frolic rockin 'n rollin out those doors! Too much.      
Was just the temptation to do me in.      
At least i had respect enough to scratch that itch three counties away.      
I had needs to be met.      
      
And ****** those needs.      
**** the need for the whine and moan from the likes of Hank Williams and Patsty Cline.      
Double ****** the need for the warm thrill and taste of gin.      
And triple ****** the need for a spin with a good ol country boy gone ornery!      
      
Pardon, a necessary preface to my hot and bothered at him walkin in the door of my good Daddy's store.      
And now i go on to the gritty of the nitty..      
      
It started a dull thing of a day, was doin payroll, startled by the chimes announcing someone comin in.      
      
I recognised him immediately from my last carouse about.      
A deep blush risin and sweatin the thought of my cover blown, i tried very hard not to stare.      
But good God he was ****, all blue jeans and swagger, he strode right up with a wicked **** eatin grin.      
      
"Hey baby i remember that shakin!"      
He says.      
Prayin my resolve would cover the weak in my knees i answered, "I'm sure you dont!" fightin hard the smile curling up the sides of my mouth.      
He laughs "Yeah, what time you want me to pick you up?"      
"Are you kidding!? Not on your life." I heard myself sayin, unconvinced.      
The white hot flash in his devastating blue eyes nearly melted my ice *****.      
Then he turned around laughin said "Alrighty ***, i can read the hours on the door."      
      
The rest of the day went by in a haze of tryin to focus vs. the tickle between my legs every time i thought of him.      
      
Finally it turned time to close, hatin how scared i was at the thought of him not bein outside in that parking lot.      
      
But of course there he was. Lookin so cool 'n tough. Leanin up against his rusty red pick-up truck.      
Said "cool baby, hop on in."      
      
Wasn't much talkin on the long bumpy ride to his place. Dirt roads can seem endless.      
That one sure as hell did.      
      
There was certainly no ceremony upon arrival, just a "Baby hop on out."      
He was off, no help with my door.      
      
Greeted by the blackest dog you ever saw, sniffin at my crotch and nippin at my skirt. Guess like dog like owner. I was seriously doubting my judgement at this point.      
      
The insides of his trailer left no stereotype untouched, of your corn fed Ozark's man.      
Prise fish mounted on the wall, Budweiser cans as far as the eyes could see, and a guitar laid out on the couch.      
      
Thinkin to myself, good thing this was just a ****. I mean, this dude would play a precious Montegue to my Capulet.      
      
Opening the door to his bedroom he pointed me the way, says "Get ready sugar,  gonna make you squeal!"      
      
And after things got goin, it wasn't too long, until like a stuck pig, squeal i did!      
You can't  imagine the sounds comin outta that room. Like thunder scared livestock, huffin and pantin and snortin. ****! There may have been a whinney! He did ride me like Seabuiscuit. I mean rode hard and most definitely put away soakin wet.      
      
Then suddenly he shouts "Glory!" and it was over as fast as it had started.. He grinned at me and rolled over. I lay there stunned and spent.      
      
I sat up on the edge of the bed. Not sure what to think. Then noticed my name on the top of a piece of paper on the nightstand. I picked it up and immediately read.      
      
It was the fumbly beginnings of an actually quite poetic love song.      
Quadruple ****** the pounding in my now softening heart.      
      
I lay back down, spooned up behind him, and kissed the back of his curly dark head.

Where the boulevard nears the bridge
Liesel stands with arms akimbo
Defiant posture deflecting whistles like bullets
And low ball offerings like marbles
  
She heard:
Toss her a nickel watch her shake like it's a dollar
In a pig's eye  
she roared
And spat hard for emphasis
  
Call her a *****
She might be persuaded  
If you smooth your tongue with velvet
And dip your fedora to hide it's fork
  
Her belly rumbles
It's hunger for a snack points peekaboo
Toes towards Harry's good time diner
10 cent burgers draw an unscrupulous crowd
  
Her pious snubs  
Of men who might fill her purse  
Have done little for a definite need of sustenance  
Though the fine slant of uppity *****  
Now lifting her little chin
Seems to have really brought out her aristocratic features
  
Buck whoops and haws
As she makes her appearace
He is a huge fan of Liesel' s posterior
And cannot wait for her stride past
  
A thought hits:
With her rumbling challenging haughty composure  
Feeling on the verge of fainted dead away
She snips:
  
Buck I'll let you pat me where I jiggle
For a five bag of burgers  
And a side of beans
  
Buck grinned ear to ear
And picking yellow feathers out of his teeth replied:
  
Liesel darlin
For that *** I should only buy you three

It is dawn over these summer hills. The blue skirts of fog billow and lift and show their knees.    
The water below caps white tipped and nips blue grey with the heads of big fish.        
Pink dawn shows her lovely face.        
She smiles a covenant with centuries of great pride.      
    
Her arms hold a tale of the people, who were my Grandfathers, and my Mother’s own.        
They were my Uncles and the children that rose from them.        
They had ***** faces and broken backs. They owned mules and hounds that knew the way home.      
    
And I am here.        
And I am made breathless by the scene and reminder of it.      
I hear hillbilly music.    
  
The instrumental keeps my people in mind and balances the world.      
Keeping trouble distant, but a part of me.      
Its efforts place compassion in my palm.      
Hands with gentleness like mine strum.      
They pat on knees hard times broken by laughter and happy families.  
    
The sweet mandolin plays amazing grace with harmony sung by women in rags.        
And they brush my hair back softly from my face. And ask me to show it.        
And grin that my fingers are not blistered. And that my arms are not leathered by sun.      
    
And they hum a new song, about my journey, and about my son.        
The melody becomes words of my own and I miss him like heartbreak, but hold it dear.        
One day soon... I will show him this view.        
From a bridge that spreads the morning before you, like a kind woman holding a photograph.

Pre administered microphoned speak
Speaking to the gambler and his misgivings
Chips placed in precarious
.... stacks
A pro placed bet
............shoved red ridged
..................circles shifting to the edge
..............................Comes the blue round O’r

worth less shrieks the minister
fat cheeks filled
free guacamole and taco chips
spittled to green felt table

In the gamblers hands
Red eyed queen and a wink
One weekend free cable
One lovely ****** ironically called Babe

Dip in the pool later
To calm the quivering
A fat man
Blue suited blubbering
Creates BIG splash
With the turquoise laidies
And their baubled tans

plastic palm tree reef
fiberglass coral majesty
a porpoise in life
decorated pink walls

Flying Elvi graceland the sky
The sky is falling heartbreak hotel
Thrusting crotches and dazzling sequins
In sequence
A paramount event
A paramount event
A paramount event
Parrots the crowd

A drive towards the desert
Flagged down by neon cowboy
Waving cactus
Like spikey *****
Two doors down
Brothel boasting
The red lid of Venus
Gamblers ***** might never be the same

Two slicks of the drip
Cry hell to the strip
That ***** was not Venus
But a villain
Fast to Walgreens for a lil white pill
Called penicillin

jet fueled finished
narrow yellow arrowed
lane of no return the same
feels 747 roar of lift
and grand departure of
pre vaca postcard capture
a life called normalcy’s
purgatoried
fate

in the far east of the sands
of the great Mojave
with upright    
cheerful cactus  
and the Joshua tree    
for company  
    
(and oh my how they had dug in and held, no small feat in this climate)  
    
An old marker read  
    
here lies Uncle  
Uncle was my horse  
it took two days in the hot sun  
to bury him    
but he was a very good horse  
Uncle RIP  
    
the sands had once formed a soft curve  
over the top of the cowboys hard work  
but now there was nothing but    
the weathered marker  
showing time passed  
with brittled barn wood heartbreak  
and memory drifting to the east with it  
    
like the coiling sands  
and their fine mimic    
of the rattlesnake  
slithering to meal  
twirling off towards the Joshua  
seeking to pile against him  
for ease and comfort  
and some rest  
    
it was surely a very hot wind  
that had carried the cowboy on  
after such a loss  
of a very good horse  
we will remember him now  
called Uncle  
    
(i am sure he was a noble steed and even in his eve of passing quite handsome to the cowboy)  
    
and surely that wind carried his sorrowful melody to the Joshua  
for cowboys often sing very sad songs  
and the Joshua heard the loss  
in the cowboy song  
and most likely wept    
a fortunes worth of affinity  
in tears of an evergreens nurture  
and sheltered him a moment in kind  
    
the cowboy head off  
long  
long ago  
in search of a hopeful Eden  
in search of new companions  
to lift his weariness  
and place his boots  
    
but for the Joshua  
his surprising elevation  
and ability to watch  
and remember  
long after the timber    
fades to forget  
nobody would  
    
and the sad cowboy  
in the blink of an eye  
far from the sands    
now to the west  
and under his own stone  
and the worn down of it  
    
and i become the Joshua  
and feel the time of this  
into my depths    
though they may be shallow  
they are strong  
they know their fortune    
and are kind to what is buried near  
    
and what might walk away from it

Paired quailing  
Marked Oreortyx pictus
Apostrophe’d plume  
From called “wet my lips”
Invitation
  
Black spot curling into the nest
Rising and falling  
Scaley feather’d chest
Ashen dot  
And cinder’d
  
Remember’d not lost for keeping
Oval’d strength  
Warm’d pale shell baby blues
To break and grow and coo
“Wet lipped” tunes
  
Come peckish March  
And in solidarity  
Grey suits line’d for forage
The seed swallowed  
Through neck arch  
And keen awareness
  
Sound panick’d  
Shot sudden scatter
Through the troupe  
Break’d family
Throughout the underbrush
  
But never permanent swaying
Nature calls  
Foreign to solo  
Blue jaying
They gather again
In apostrophe’d queue
  
Symbology thus
Lightening strike totem
Curly queue’d head
Ahead of the game  
Take the brass ring  
Momentum’d gold
And with whom ye gather
Do not unfold  
  
Point administer’d
With any purpose  
Forward and try, try again
(If at first you do not fricassee, fry fry a hen?)
With humble’d walk
To save your wings

I have stood for  
And witnessed  
Arm up with hand raised  
And a delicate finger hell bent
Like a Pope placing compassion  
On an aging head  
While he weeps  
And tells his secrets  
To someone he should consider
Only a man
  
Only a man
  
The nights have stood for it
They had taken their stand  
With eyes of a moon
A crescent  
In their part closure
I was told they would weep as well
  
And so I raised my hand
  
For the world
He was only a man
  
My hours wander
I trail them
And turn my head  
To minutes past
Each tick emptying seconds  
Into waiting  
  
This hope holds anticipation  
In my belly
Once the foreplay to lust
And wild ambition
The purgatory in it
A tremendous heaven promised
But only Hell
  
Only a man
Only a man  
  
My thoughts dwell in the Nin
I read her desires  
And find...
  
In his eye  
My hair  
And the extent of it  
Into the stars  
And their restlessness  
  
The volumes of dreams  
And perverse reality  
Hold my comfort
blooming my confusion  
Little FLowers
My lost home  
The Delta of Venus  
  
It might just be okay  
My love  
Wherever you go
I might be too
Even without you  
You are only a man  
  
It can be lonesome
In the wilderness
Once again  
And you will not be alone in it
without my track beside you
  
You would like to hear my footfall
stop to bend
And ****** into me your river
your might gripping my hip
To have me plead your name
To beg for you
And pant you are a God
  
But I shade myself now in these thoughts
from any condoning  
Of your deity
  
You are only a man  
And I am my own woman
You do not hold my sensuality  
Or my hand  
To put it up  
To lift it over your head  
Without sight of me
While digging into my parts  
  
You forget a disembodied soul
It's longing and need dismissed  
No shelter in you
no home for it  
  
I am only a woman
And with you a shell
Of pink and golden arching
That curved you a dynasty
And place to sleep

And it came down like madness
The water over her naked self
Spilling over budding dreads of *****
Neglect
Where it pooled in oil and the dust of long hellish roads
This sacrament refused to mix readily or give easy absolution
For the residuals of long journeyed sins
Hard living had taken its toll
And close to completely
What was left of her mind, muddy
"Of cloudless climbs and starry skies"
She had once known all the words
By heart and mirrored affinity
But sometime in that great distance
Of then to now
It had all become very, very
Ugly
So now, there stood
A shivering and hunched Liesel Priest
Wearing nothing but goosefleshed compromise
In durressed state of highly undressed
Urges, the natural kind
Of flight or flight, quite respectable and by right
Well all those fine urges, they flung like daggers
Until, almighty at last
Her head rocked back and sunk into wet soapy shoulders
Her jaw slacked slightly open
And she let the ministering of scalding water pass her lips
Until she rocked compliance
And uttered "forgive me father, how I've sinned."