never saw that problem the dry
river's bed
most always had an overflow
into the forest's toes
of  water gushing overflowing
the river's banks
washing the salt off the roots of a
water mocassin ten feet from the bank
hissing
trees roots her trunk wetter
'n they ever have been to pull
her long tresses up
around her *** walk tippity toed through once dry banks
caught the fervor
began
to sashay a bit
dance her  top limbs swaying left
as her trunk had gone right like a whip

root tiptoeing off to the high spot on the hill all the rest the feeling trees had gathered
crying more rain filling valleys
feeling lost for those root bound who couldn't feel
the first drip of empathy dense when it came to sympathy
and you'd think natural selection might take her part in this
and wipe those who don't feel off but I think
they is this Noah dude for the  uncaring he builds a big *** canoe
and herds up one of each *** of the uncaring two them
narcissists a male female those psycopaths one each of breeding ages
one pair each of all the woes
and floats down the river into the swollen *** sea so
they live too,
those whose brains are not capable
of feel of poetry of art.
those are on the ark.
those who have apathy of a dry eye

heart how it warms
pulse beat in the midst
turns a  red
a cheek since
her dimples glowed,
a bed sheet rumpled
a cigarette glow in the candlelight
two souls needy
dressing in the morning
sipping that last drop of champagne,
everyman woman that the last one living when
we all become chipsets in some race to smaller faster
silicone drags lips tense
drawing up ******* pants trying to savor,
longing last look at the flesh
the blood tense
a small silent caveat
lonely endeavor
an entreaty to those who smile already
like doves in
the coven.
once we were.
there here
when...

Random is what I supposed
Until too many random acts
Came my way
What I prayed for was
Never answered
I saw her arm
Those black dead eyes
She was dead a long time ago
I said hi
Beautiful
And she began to
Replay her story
He was a trucker drove up in his rig at 12:30 am
Paid today
A *** burning his pocket
The ambulance took him away
At 3 in the dark morning.
She was arm candy for the rich
Best store bought **** ever
A wild one
She'd come to the house to play
After making a score
Take a hit and sit and rock
Back and forth
For two days
He was a runner for the dealer
Everyone called him the
Walking man
He stole an ounce from
Under the meanest bulldog
In town
Showed up throwing rocks the
The size of my toenail on a red hot blazing stem.
No one ever saw him again.
She was five dollar Felisha
You know what was her specialty.
Lots of times she had chrome on her lips.
Then was me.
I had the house.
I'm glad I moved.
I saw too much random ****.
I think now there was
A purpose.
I'm living again.
Until I die.
And there ain't no such *******
Idol as random.

Angels are white and devils red
And abstinence of sin. Can be colored what?
Clear.
Clear like glass
Looking out from an efficiency
Apt over
The busy metro district
Seeing clearly both extremes
The pimps and ******
Drug dealers on the corners
Selling flesh and blood and promises
Or
The time I saw a man
Had
Twenty Styrofoam dinners
Walking up to obvious beggars
And handing them one
With legs and thighs of chicken
Rice green beans corn bread
A slice of sweet cake.
Shakes them awake
Those asleep on the grates
Put his arm around them-
No telling when they had a hug last- and gave them dinner.
Above just watching I stated
To myself
Hesitating, I'll be that man
One day.
And fortune will decide
Which one.
The angel
Or the devil.
I'll find out
When.

I sing

As I breathe
As it is meant to be
Songs special meaningful
To me
My tune a prayer
The touch of god in
A euthenistic travail
Up a hill
To no avail
Rounding corners off
Touching head on bark
Banging wisdom with dead ends
And sanity in dark
Yet I

Sing

Always have this tune
In the back of my mind
Calling
I sing

Autumnal equinox of a long season standing raw sun
Sweating drips become ripe
As the bottoms of watermelons do
Lying ripening swelling
Swaying feel the stem
Tighten become draught
I turn
Sway in the lengthening
Days
Like an old woman
On a wooden porch
A Hand fan and a flowered dress
In an old oak rocker
Lean
To one side
Redden
Brown Crispen
Brittle brittly
Spin in one
Great fall
Off
Down I spin now
Now alone fall
Fall to earth
Dissolve
And how else
Should life
Be

I dreamed I
Saw fields of straw
Hallucinated the waves
Coming to me

I begged on
That little
Self inside me
To prove

His realness
And he said
I just am
And I

Answered
But the field was
Real to me all
Waving

Standing
Applauding
A festivity
Of me

And you are who
A homonculus
A being
Inside me
Have you

I questioned him
Myself me
My being
Mine ID

Have you
Little my
Senses of self
Monitor

My matriarchal
Patrician
Overseer
Have you

One too?
A little you
Inside you talk
To question

Go to in stress
For advice
And if so
Does he too?

On and and and and

Ononon
We went
Late


Into the night into day
I went

Back
To
The
Field