Flames, flames, fire!

Hearts loaded with embers,
Begone flame, you hold no sway!

Pooled in blood,
The melting moon
Shines far above

Warming your frigid eyes
With shards of night and
Blaring beams of white

Crushing the natural mind
With ballads of war and pain,
Spitting moments of gore through
Abyssal pupils.


  Prepare this intestine of youth,
       Detach its origin and cast it unto

            A forest with one tree.

Then char the strand of mind in which
Fear reigns, scar it with the memory
       Of life

Let it kneel
to your flight
And Bring it fore your eyes,
Caging the slithering chimera with
     Immense cliffs of ice

Let it look to your matter
Yet never engage your voice,
Fluxing into your cells with terrific
      Color,
Breaking off the origin and planting
It’s lessons in between the soul and
      Skin,
Offering access to any lost traveler
Drowning in a raging sea.

Embers in your heart,
       Fire consuming without,
       Fire empowers within

Unconditional Confusion

The days are short,
but it’s alright.
The pool is warm,
violets, red and blue.
      The sky is filled
      with
      haze.

I float away the
hours -- minutes rise
to the western wind.
My eyes are puffy
       from the chlorine
       I
       Soak in.

I close my eyes to see
a black tarmac road,
endless through a
dusty field, sun scorched
       and itchy, my
       skin hot
       and red.

Slipping down under
to soften the irritation
I drop a cinder anchor
to remain in place;
       time remains
       one smiling
       face alone in
       that silent abyss.

Arabella,
let's lose ourselves together,
let us walk into the desert,
eyes in hand,
           hand in yours,
until dawn come forth
and new on the
Red razors edge;
let the bleeding sun sever
Sights once seen
greeting the eagles of
The sky--
           Greeting the mirages
Of the sun’s flaring eye,
           Quenching our thirst on
The grainy sand below; may
We Become intimate with
The wind
heeding its fables of all our
Wrongs and dead-ends; hearing
It present to the infinite plane
of our thought;
May the sun wear our
Skin warm,
Letting vulture's swoop down
To lay us in bed for life
            
          Beginning to dry by the
dusk of night, with the
friend of time in our core

Arabella,
We would no longer be found,
bound to this ground forevermore,
Waiting

Waning scion
encroaching
a course

An Isolated course;
coarse is its skin
blind-sight is its eye
with flutist wind
whistling its mind

Sly stars dripping
under fogged
horizons
the moon shuttering
light,
fleeing from the
gaunt wood
where I reside

Night,
shroud of
razor black
oozing pustules
of defect and blight,
mind snaking through
bowels--
grisly bowels kept in
swamps
kept in dark and damp
kept underground--
stone underground

Sprouting
out splintered
atonement,
slumped on a
broken wall

Gray above,
light humming
under feet,
through scabrous
stone and sodden clay

One hope lingers:
plunge worrisome
hands into the
viscous floor

Tugging fingernails,
bartering
screams with the wind,
grounded pain arises through the dirt,
latching to my veins

Injecting the soil and stone into my
twitching heart, feeding the cells with
native essence

Purging the human from
the silken skin; spraying it into
the sediment home

Bedrock welcomes my sight
and my trench
shapes my stale body.

           Becoming soil and rock
           and worms and root
           offers a listing breeze
           to the now formless thought

The dirt is in me
The rock is in me
The qualm is without

I know you don’t know.
I know you don’t.
But I know that I
don’t know about the
stars in the sky; or
the colors in my eyes;
while you smile when I talk
Or when I fall when you walk.
about the steel
    Blue of mine.
Matching the
    sea-green in yours.
I don’t know
why I cloud my day when
I think you gone, or how
terrible I miss your hair &
legs & skin & smile in the sun.

I’m reduced like sugar, smelling
burnt in the air and left only to
rhyme why I’ve felt you so long.

The pastel colors of the young
magenta sky are
Painted bright on my eye.
My words as bare as the road,
empty as my stare.
A great yellow bird flies.

Feeling is worn
like a warm flannel
that smells of campfire smoke
and
     maple syrup.

While pastel colors
of the deep sky
     gallop through
     my head like
the feeling of cold velvet--
brushed upon my skin
    I
grasp at sleepy lightning bugs,
hoping they can teach me
how to close my eyes for
longer than a blink.

I slip in my skin
And grace the wet
Cement with my
Attached feet

What way will
My head float today?
I will have to run
After it quick wherever.

If I don’t it may
Be gone like my
Favorite red
Balloon and

My eyes will
Be glued;
Watching the
Dead leaves fall

Amongst their
Siblings, until
Flecks of
Rainbow snow

Come and blanket
The cracked cement.
Then my friends will
Forget my skin and

Teeth and echoed
laugh; then my
Skin will walk off
And find a warmer

Home with a fuzzy
dog and red lights and
a crackling fire; maybe
some chocolate too.

I think then I could float
and find that red balloon;
I sure hope it’s still
up there in the blue

Feeling lifted from my skin and cast to the wind;
mind melting through my pores;
eyes slink out their sockets and look back,
viewing my unknown expression full

What now, what left is there for me to desire alone;
salacious world now reversed on my visage,
my shell figure strayed and brown

Dear faded daisy,
your life was yellow in
my palm. Her eyes were
green as the breathing trees

We played on the beach and
thought in the sand,
often touching under the
deep electric land

Nothing moved, my hand
crested her hip, there
was only I & Her.
Only you.

I melted deep into her pores.
Peered out her open eyes, saw
fog rolling over the curve
of my skin.
Saw my teeth sprout grass, my eyes
we’re smooth rocks. I was nowhere
but there, being bathed in
like the summer sun.

Soon after, like a roving cloud,
She passed, watched me wilt
like curling flames in hot wax with no
wick left to burn. The winds blew fast,
crumbled my stone face and tore my root.
The daisy in my thumb
wrinkled dim.
I didn’t say a word -- as
quiet as the stars above.
She won’t be back so
I wait, sitting on a bench
from far away.
Fading with you, my white daisy.