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”

Expert at:
Seduction, opening cheap wine.
With steak knife.
Watch it...
Too fast...
That ***** squirts everywhere.
******* Men & wine.

There is a light on..
if it is a lamp
I decrease by lessening shades of ever night
If it is a being,
I retreat
From vapor sting
Of foul breaths to eyes

My camouflage none
But naked self and instinct

And into the deep holes
And crevasse
Of a land rich
With nothing sovereign
It’s only King
Cruelty and self

My pallor is shot
This atmosphere has left thick residue
(Ash and grey)
I have morphed into a refugee
I wear the cloak of ruggedness
I own the heart of fear

I consider my last moments here ..
what memories might come to mind?
Thoughts of home ..
a distance so heartbreaking to travel
My family ...
faces like ghosts
It moves my insanity so
that I cannot remember their touch

Chambers:
I am moving blood
And dust
Pumping one ..
to put off the other

I find no need for sacrifice
The little goat would do me no good
It’s bleating a cry out to nothing
It’s slaughter would do me no good
But to lend fat to my skin and bones
And forward my march
Into another day

One I might be too weary to exist in
If it were not the fear
Of the pain that will carry me into death

A deep affection for more

The woman sings:
“Don’t leave your little girl in the wild, the sky is turning black”
Of loves torture and trauma in an elliptical South
Of pale skin exposed to a hellish son
Once her heart was signed in blood ink across a dotted line
It hurt
And it stunned a permanent mark upon her face
And so she hoarded comforting words
Of lingering beauty and deep pools for eyes
Rations to nurture poorly a malnourished
and abused vanity
Her fingers found themselves
Grasping at tiny things
And disheveling all around her what she thought was neat
To tidy it back up again might tip up her chin
A story heard:
A cobbler fixed a question mark heel to an aristocratic boot so that the Man in question, could walk above other Men’s waste

She prays night and day for the perfect pair of Devil’s red stilettos

Foxhole of fishes

Like the beautiful  
And the breaking
Find a saltwater underground  
Swirl into deep pearlescent  
Holes become worlds  
With the bellies of fish
That swish and shine like stars
And the dark and deep blue  
Becomes covering  
Safe night
And a sovereign space  
To sleep walk through
  
But agitated in our kingdom  
Of separate from the grass  
And hard wired  
Dirt and unplowed fields
The scarecrow watches
Transforms and dives in
To do what the scarecrow is want  
To do
  
His new being
With the tentacles  
Of monsters  
That sweep  
Closed eyes
And bother lips  
To want suction
And oxygen rich cells
  
And the fish bellies flash lightning  
Fast  
Such scatter and it’s shine
Like comets calling  
Unpresidented paradigm
We hide from its shift
And nose and dig  
Deeper into our breathless dimension  
  
Give us breathe oh lord
In heaving chest
It is locked  
And chained
And sinks  
  
Ever
Deeper  
  
With the weight of iron
And one might die  
In this violent struggle
And the epithet  
Would read  
Of a madman  
Wearing blue lips
And startled gaze upwards
Chrystals holding  
The last minute reflection  
Of pseudo comets  
In solemn iris
  
Gripped hand clutching  
The trident of a false king
And the scarecrow  
With it’s new skin  
Scaling saltwater trenched  
Evolution  
Would have been missed  
And it’s words  
Of reach back
And wake
Unheard
  
But marry the two while living
But dream and drown only a moment
Or two
And swim and walk  
Ploughing and knowing  
The purpose
Of the lunatic that hangs on the cross
And stargaze
Into a true night
Under his spread and warning
With the eyes of a child
And the wonder of the deep
An ocean among us
But not our casket  
Never mind the longing to
Never mind the pearly stomached
Fish  
And calming sink

A horse called West

There was an infinite horse called West
He cantered Stallion chest
Heaving, thrusting forward
Beads of salted sweat
To the throttled floor
And hardened salt bed flats
With gifts of pound and precision
The grand machinery of nature
Without untimely death
To reign the beast in

Mortality can appear a noose
Even when the hangman has just cause
And the look of a saint
Beneath his dark hood

West had no knowledge
Of discourage

opposable thumbs were not in his
Chocolate brown make up
His eye dipped
Creamy and soft
If you stared into them
He might appear
To gaze back
Like a lover

Ready and willing
For care and soft
Gentle caress
He might appear to be
But would not stop
A break neck pace
Towards....

For kind things and touch

But for Omega
He had no vision
No need or desire
To hinder him

He was
As well
Without desperation
He was.....

Just as well

Another horse
Would halt him two foaled
And creation would bring the East
And a certainty

He had yet to see a sun rise
Nor see a sun set

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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!!!

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

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

A tree

I was once God smacked by a Sunset
Who’s fingertips dripped orange and pinks into the inky tips of evergreens
A master work of feeling
And blue ball empathy

The longing displayed in nature

A supernatural as I gazed onward
And understood

Phenomenon
Phenomenally

I waltz and dance and tip toe underneath a shine gone spastic
Stars that would scatter all for me
And would shed their light upon a face
Curving lips over a strong chin that held ...

The ever promise of a kiss
The furlong promise of a No

I doubled down on this.

Hot and miss as I danced into the spray ..
on my face and **** and tummy

More I cried for his sunset
Into the ink of my evergreen
Pinks and oranges puddled onto

The tap root of my Forrest

A Wah Wahhh song

Punch drunk
By my oh my...
funk
Oh the cold cocked

rhythm and these blues

Uhm...hmmmm... shaking my dropped
Dripping head..

Shook my smile yesterday
It took two to take...

Quick flick.. tick again...
she slid right off
Like turrets
Flying a ****

Like a cheap date
Tossing a Marlboro

Quickly
Carelessly

What a monster
This new normal
And its contrary Benefits

I ***** a Joan Jett curly lip
Circa Runnaways angst
Leather jacket
And serious strappy heels

That kind of contrary
But filled with Rock n Roll
Lust and undercurrent

A whiskey’d throat to my silent
My oh my...

Icky Thumped lick to its rip
(Hear that guitar)

So you know, I probably appear pretty cool here..

But my future is bright
(I gotta wear shades?)

I might just get...
Cool as black ice
Tattooed on my hand

I might just get...

Over it

Behind Bandana and Cloak

Where it holds value
Like ampoules of placebo
But sugar and water and hope
Driven in
An intoxicating swoosh
****** in, currents
That run down the American dream

A big brawny man with spike and hammer
Pounds determination into steel
With breathe heaving spit
Electrolytes draining from brow
Below the furrow a face the shape
Of white molten mud
Labor belts harmony with his spike

Ping
Ping
The placebo takes the rhythm of faith
Ping
Until the morning grace ....

An affluent nature would give him no title
Only stock in trade
The worth of his back
And it is broad

But where it holds value ..
might and vigorously hoping
And these you know,
Are the important things
What we reach for
Beyond capability

Behind the red fade
Of cotton hand me down things
Before time drops forgotten
From the hems of pockets riddled with holes

Ping and
Ping
The mend

In his bounty
Amen
Amen

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

Bone

It is not a pretty thing..
or any kind of delicate cling
.... the scent of rose hips to pink skin
.... the new morning dew drop
To blade of grass, bent from it....

But more like the red shade
One might see..
Across two yellowed tooth’s
Jagged and arching from a mauvened grin
... teeth like a menacing and red smeared
Ancient ivory and bone menagerie
...
And pouring stink
Pouring stink

It is red and clings and dries to bone
..... and
The bone was used to unleash it

A torrent spill
From whack and grotesque thud
Until....

Whack and whack and grotesque thud
And death dump thump

And the life
And the life
And the...... life
She, ...

A lesser spill..
she does not breathe...
I .... over ****

I over ****..
To hollow her out
Her skull .. brainless skull

To hollow me out

The spill
She slows to stop and I...
find belladonna’d glaze of eyes
Find stillness in the red cementing of fate..
See art in its red and drying state......

Red smears on tooth’s
Like a cold ***** menagerie
Like a Grand Monet
In my own private gallery

...

I could spit across the moon’s long axis
I could holler into the stars that they are stale ..  
that the bowels of hell are my window to their view  
I could do all of this,  
Without you
  
But keep in myself  
A promise  
Like the lamb screaming  
There is a lion  
And he approaches to shred me  
And eat me  
And deliver me onto the field  
Some meadow of gold and rebirth  
Where harvest holds my future  
And the stale stars will shine again  
  
I can’t complain  
I choose  
I breathe because I am ready to
I ache so  
Because I am often well  
I search for the divine  
Because I have known hell  
  
My song I sing like scorched Earth  
It knows the truth of things  
And all the while  
The electric lick of moan  
And wail
And a pleasure so sweet  
Just on the other side
  
A pleasure so sweet....  
  
I can almost taste it ...

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

Christina’s World

My life...
my legs they have kept far away from me
From the loft
From the rafters
In the night come rumbling
The pans had fallen from the shelves

In the growing distance
My home
In the growing distance

It has spread before me
And no longer reaches the gingham
The hem and floral petals
Shiver in the wind

Something grows in the space
From here to there..
an emptiness
And yet it grows

My smile haunts my forehead
It creases and is spittled with heat
My smile had fallen from the shelves
Along with the pans
And my Mothers booming laugh

My Mothers laughter echoes the distance
It is like lightning crack
When I awaken from it
And can no longer find my step

I reach ..
I pull away with timid hand
I am the field mouse
I am the scarecrow off her post
I am beauty on an island
Of memory and remorse
And the Sea
She folds in browns
The screams of the cicada

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

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

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

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.

See what he wears
A smirk like a *******
To be pulled back
And allow
Perversity
To flick forked
And attempt to tingle

As spittle flies from tongue
I would be unhappy to taste
His desire foams
And falls from his face
With a palsy of droop and moan
Unkempt hair falls in greasy fit
To shade a left
And wicked eye

And from the right
A stare that would like to pervert me
To down my *******
With a wink
And crooked tooth

From the thought of it
Grime settles on my nature
My shoulders bother me to stoop
As if I were to sleep
Inside the doorways of the bodegas
And my stature would slip into his pocket
A dime and a few pennies
Loose change

Into this I stare
Right into the red rimmed hole
I would be grateful
To pluck out
And put upon a pirates toothpick
to garnish his ginned state
Shaken and stirred
******* pulled and stroke
His stinking tongue
Until spit like *******
Hits his plucked eye
And I can show him where he’s ******* from

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

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

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

It is dawn
  
I watch the dusty tilt and splinter
Of morning sun's soft emissions
I weave my fingers through them
And let them hold my need
  
My ache for the evenings before
when I bathed you  
And knew your body
And could smell your scent  
Strong and musky
where it was kept upon our bathroom shelf
  
My ache
she is strong
she remembers when
  
When comfort and care
And your arms were ever ready  
To pull around me
Wrapped carelessly  
  
Ghosts of you still wrap tight
  
You hold and squeeze  
And the twilight in that embrace
distorts the early sun
  
I feel torn
  
With the need to battle this obscurity
And with a shaking need  
to collect and keep it
  
My body urges me
It remembers when
  
So I often beg for it  
when it fades some
I had been crippled by my begging so
  
I believe it had crippled you as well
I must believe that to stay in this light
  
My posture dips
It remembers when  
  
I would get on my knees  
And would swallow you whole
My eyes on your desperate desire for release  
All the while
  
Now my eyes on this new day
Finding beauty on my fingertips
And pain in the memories that flutter it
  
My being wants to bend in that pain
It would feel natural
I think....
  
And i do again
  
But it would be a swallow
I could not choke
To watch your eye  
And it's ecstasy in release
  
A crushing blow  
It would keep me on my knees
  
so I rise
With this sun
And each day forward
To live and be gentle with it
To pray on these knees
I do not stay in this existence
In your evening  
And remembering
When
  
(I have known serenity in my stand. The next time I mean to keep it. That is my promise, to the next dawn and it's tilt again.)

Hand

It is placed in a small hand
Small palm
A cup
To be held

(thoughts leave ligature stains)

To be violently kept
And dig deep
Down the red seams
Called fortune
That rise like trees
But uproot themselves
At the wrist

One so pale and daggered
One limp yet meaningful
One’s soul might forget it extends

One sparrow
One stone
One star to find me

(a comets score would burn a smaller space)

The World had turned within a tinier spot
How long could we keep the world turning
Under my thumb

It is placed in a small hand
Small palm
A cup

(the chalice had filled with spray)
Grey matter and lust
The clear pink of a dark red
the moment just before

Brutal
(elementary momentum)
Brutal
The moment just before


..........

He had paused and looked and let out a clear headed scream and his eyes were gashes the color of nickel and stone his heart was stone cold his voice was deep his voice was high pitched uncontrollably so his eyes were thrown wide his head was foggy he only wailed and moaned he wailed he wailed he wailed on a head no longer clear....

So deep and dark was his soul

..
..
..

It is paced in a small hand
Small palm
A cup

And it’s weight in iron
Would sink the worl

Hillbilly Girl

She took the cake
Fat bottomed
Momma slip dressed no shoes
Whiskey’d breathe
(enough to make a cow dizzy)
To her the simple life
Had been a religious pilgrimage
One heavy hillbilly who loved a good bargain
Her Guru Man
(between her thighs he’d lie)
Placing bets with tobacco juices
The piney scent of chainsaw remnant
His perfume
A heady mixture to inhale
For this tiny girl
Her rear had plumped practically overnight
For his poison
Her bottom lip had found
A permanent place to shove itself
(and still her spirit had not taken a hit)
To the hilt she took to the woods
Birthing babies in the holller
(consecutively named after him)
1
2
3
They dropped and rolled into their own
Her bottom got fatter
Her ******* remained high
(one never snubbing the other)
And though her book
Threatened to become a dusty one
It was leather bound
A valuable artifact in her eyes
(no other God would thumb through its pages)
But to the end her Guru Man
Would see it as very well
And so the stones she gathered from living.
Would build her a palace in this backwoods place
Fat bottomed lil Momma
She took the cake

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.

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

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!

Iced In

I am almost certain this house is shrinking  
I have begun to watch heavy mouth breathers as if they were mine canaries  
And have duct taped down the stove tops  
so that no Cabbage or Salmon or other viscous pungency invades what’s left of my senses  
  
Last night I slept on the couch for a change of scenery in which to dream  
My dreams have become complacent  
I wish they contained urges like mine  
I feel they hold to investment in my desires  
  
My longings are being held hostage by a man in a boring brown suit who would never dare try and pull off a black fedora  
He can only move me  
By a rope and pulley system  
  
It feels unnatural  
Without the odd pleasures of the surreal  
  
This environment suffocates my ability to self stimulate  
My imagination bounces off of four grey walls who’s ugliness is approaching like a step sister  
She creeps towards me and scuffs her shoes  
She breathes heavily and I eyeball her impending fall  

Surely this storm will be the bounce house death of me
By body splayed out in an un natural position to chalk around on rainbow colored parachute fabric
I hope I allow the look on my face to say it  all

It was monstrous  
Yet I slayed his generous advances
  
How could I have predicted  
Sure footed  
But...  
Both creeping pounding each  
Both snarling sides of face  
  
One sweetly  
  
One harsh and dripping breath whiskey  
Snoot and scowl  
A bronze fist the left  
  
I caught it like straw  
  
The right as if snow had fallen on my lashes  
  
Not that I had wept  
  
And neither did I laugh  
The laughter caught and kept  
  
I saw his eyes each  
I saw belladonna  
And fire  
I saw hate and love  
And the slow death of the Sun  
Into a chill night  
Casting tender mercies
  
Until another morning  
Where pounding crept  
Where my aching came
  
And peace had slept

In a Bucket

What have I brought ..?
Havoc
Love...
carried in a bucket
Cancered by holes
And spilled along my path
Squeaky handle
Rusted parts
My shoulders shirking my burden
And the responsibility

With stars in my eyes I had asked:
Where should we go to dinner?
Do you like my dress?
What color are my eyes...
right this very second?
Would you get a load of me and this ******* twinkle!

It was so bright he could not stand the view.

Along the path:
A scenic overlook
Down below it ...
way down nestled prettily amongst tall Oak
And pale Sycamore
A brown river I had once daintily dipped my toes in,
in front of him..
And had cannonballed in naked
While hollering like a banshee
Behind him

It is unfortunate he did not witness the show...
so grand
it had uprooted the rookery

So grand ..
Even today the bird stands
Talk smoke and grey
On watch
And hoping to catch it again

Such were the stars in my eyes...
such were the stars in my eyes.

Blue and wetted vision occurred
Morning after morning
As I woke to his posture looming
Over my sleepy face
And his remark:
You look so beautiful,
So peaceful

But the look on his face.....

Another hole in the bucket.
My load lighter,
My boots muddied

It has been, such a long time since him.

It was White

  A white ...    A white ...    I’m dreaming of a curtain of snow
  
                                                         falling from her shoulders.
  
Snow crackling against the window. Snow shredded
  
                                           with gunfire. Red sky.
  
Ocean Vuong
Aubade with Burning City  
  
      There lay war.    Tyranny’s serial  
Killer... heat abroad  
  
The moon was white  
                        Degrees of yellow
  
    White lines laced with bliss ... much ado without implication
  
He ate the meat as if
  
A canine without teeth ... and she  
            
              tossed her smile carelessly  
  
She held a sparrow in the palm of her gentle  
  
               White... and trembling hand...  
  
   White and trembling
  
  
She ate a plum and let the juices run...
  
           Ran down her chin upturned ...  
run down it  
And dripped red juices to the floor....  
  
Let it drip                and he lapped like a dog  
  
As on airways nostalgia comforted  
         On all fours he licked red drops  
  
And once over  
Melancholic  
  
            He would forever be.  
  
Reduced to that taste....  
         orgasmically  
                     And in torture....  
his mind in torture
  
  
  
Wind whips the sparrow lost...  
she mourns her seat  
                                       Of an un gloved  
  
Pearl white hand
  
  
Un gloved and so delicate there....  
  
The morning makes it hard to build a nest

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

Jack White and other Spiritual matters

Prior to yesterday I fasted from Jack White for 8 days. Cause: One screwy morning while making my bed, neatly spreading the head of my ****** Mary blanket newly bought on sale at Walmart, I looked up at the print of Jack White my mother bought me and winked at him and said:  
“Love you Jack, we got this.”
I was Godsmacked. Thrown back violently into a moment where I had stared into a Golden boys centerfold in the pages of Teen Beat, pledged my undying love, straight into his turquoise eyes, and was crushed when he did not swear it back.  
  
I got down on my knees and prayed: “Dear lord, help. I will give up Jack if I need to... but I really, really don’t want to...soooo.”  
His answer: “Chill out Jennifer, just take a break.”
  
I did, and yesterday morning I picked Jack back up in full force. After praying, I played Icky Thump so loud in my headphones I thought my ears would bleed.  
Afterwards I paused.. prayed again, and here is what that prayer revealed:
  
.....  
  
I sat, hands on knees. Alive with both the Holy Spirit, and the sticky feel of White’s signature guitar riffing. I allowed the buzz to settle and awareness lift. I became aware that my experience with the song was every bit as good or perhaps even better than the first time.  
  
This was certainly not true concerning my lifelong wrestling match with drugs and alcohol. No drink or use after, would ever match the Nirvana I reached in my first. Though I would chase that feeling like thunder scared livestock up until a bout a year and a half ago when the 12 steps of AA brought me to a higher power.  
  
This morning, that same higher power was revealing something to me during meditation concerning Rock n Roll, music and art in general.  
  
Somewhere around 4000 years ago a change happened in mankind. The Neolithic revolution. (This coincides with the time biblical scholars date the Genesis story of Adam and Eve)  
During this time, we see man beginning not only to plant and harvest literal fruits, but spiritual fruits as well. A natural or innate need for God manifests, into practice and worship. A knowledge thereof ... In this same transforming  period of growth we find the birth of Art and musical instruments.  
  
One can peruse the Artwork of man created thousands of years ago, and see he had a need and talent to create that was God given not unlike Da Vinci. One could play a flute  made back then with the same tonality of Amazing Grace. ... or Icky Thump.  
  
I came to the conclusion, that my music, is a spiritual matter, even in secular form. That Art is a spiritual matter to me, in whatever form.    
  
....,
  
My spirituality matters to me. More than that, it’s condition determines whether I can call myself sober today. With, or without a drink.  
  
With or without  Jack White?  
Gods answer: with. As long as I know to get down on my knees and ask him to help me reel it in the next time I look at a photo of a “rock God” tell him I love him, and say we got this.

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

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

I look around this empty space    
And wonder at it  
how it all became  
And was put into piles collected    
To be tossed    
And was    
And piled again    
And Again  
    
Then in my mind....  
My gut  
My instinct  
My intuition and the following  
It plays out  
Right out of me
    
    
*  
    
There is a game      
Played      
Movements easy around the board      
The dice      
Tossed and rolled      
Tumbled to stop      
      
All flick of the wrist      
And chance      
And loss      
The mind behind it heavy      
Intense concern about its numbers      
      
We diminish ourselves      
By bets placed      
On unstable circumstance      
On games we are not meant to win      
But only pass time      
It's reckoning around the board      
      
The chance cards intended      
To bloom us      
Or bust us completely      
This game has great power      
But it is no Ouija of fate      
      
I cannot believe what is written      
Is placed there      
Though the roll      
Highly unpredictable      
I do choose to roll      
      
*    
      
my life has been messy      
I try cleaning it up      
I use rags of ***** promise      
I try willing the dust to stay      
And dance on the other side of the window      
      
But the day      
she blows      
Strong and forces what is fated through      
The dust settles in my room      
I must live there      
And should be comfortable      
      
So I keep myself      
And toss the ***** rags      
With the rest of the waste      
I know loss      
I am capable of suffering it willingly        
      
*    
      
Should I choose to roll again      
My head turned      
By the spectacle of black dots spiraling      
Preying on their fall      
      
Then all bets are off brother      
My poker face      
A shamble      
You know the chance I hold      
so do I      
My card would be mighty      
But only a card      
      
It is a game man      
only a game....      
      
**    
      
I wipe off my bedside table      
With the hem of my night gown      
A dark circle remains where i once sat your photograph      
It was beautiful      
You were smiling      
And so was I      
      
The memory still lovely      
And as fresh as the room in it      
It was once our room      
And it was your own      
keep it      
I am laying down      
To sleep in peace      
And dream in this one

Little birds

Little trails into a soul setting sun    
Little birds into a Cairo view  
Through the doorways of blue tiled mansion walks  
Plays a karyokinesis tune    
    
Splitting by an eye wink    
Spitting haze into Set    
And to dream of this un reality    
With out the microscopic oblivion    
    
Held perversions of dreams    
Of when you....    
    
Dot dot dot... so clearly    
That I    
    
Twisted in dance there    
With sheer red skirts    
Go round and round    
So lost in it    
    
That I...    
    
Had forgotten to un break    
Had forgotten the edges of my smile    
    
I smell a peculiar scent    
And I shrug incense from my posture    
    
My awaiting stance holds little promise    
And is full of dilution    
My synapses spark    
A nights view from lost doorways    
To golden alleys that fail to exist    
    
Anymore    
The little birds sing  
    
Anymore    
Through tiled windows    
And sheer skirts    
    
Fragrant plumes like feathers    
Whip soft cotton air    
To travel    
And torture and sift away    
    
To split and turn my actuality’s notion of romance    
Into particles like dust

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

Moon

In moments when the long night
Recoils from even the moonlight
Stars and their whispering intentions
Time and its travel slowly
To the fields
And their reach

To draw to the beaches
Harsh pounding wave
And sudden crash
Climactic breach
Of security and sinking feet

We try and clang the bell
Announce the fall
To all who might dwell in that place
Distanced from the longing
By loneliness and crippling complacency

Like shadows of our youth
And the days we grinned the future
Wearing it proudly on brown arms
The sun and my freckled smile

Captured in a Kodak captivity
Loss of better things
Or promise?
A tomorrow lit up
Even in the night

The great skill
Of healing well
And rest was not lost for the wicked

The might of consequence
Had not taken its swing
And days were spent without concern of their cost
A weary hour had not yet creased my forehead

My thoughts race faster than the clock
And still the tick tick
Slip away
Of what it meant to me
Your embrace
I could not now
Sketch your face

Once singing clarity
A vanishing
But the cloud that kills the moon
And hope would feel like anarchy

But the moon will surely pull
The waves to shore
And with their rapture
Your wake

And a golden spot to cause my eye to blink
For time
She does move surely
And on and on into this
And so do I as well

So do I as well

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