My walk home covered in sweat
Thighs chafing

I pulled this four rowed pedal flower
up
roots and all.

Passing one decayed raccoon swarmed by flies
On my sprained ankle

I come bearing a gift which will wilt in the moment of hours

For you

My beloved.

Stone and brick
Iridescent is the curvature plastic cup
With a last sip of water
Follow by a well tempered clavier
         Followed by an inhale of
Menthol.
        Only a few sprigs protrude from
The concrete beneath my feet

Setting: single person standing shower

Production notes: male actor, sitting lotus under the shower faucet

        Title: purgatory or paradise
A divine comedy of the mosaic variety
The rain (tiled blue and gold) -the trails of

    Man.

- (note hedonism “maybe the notion of frog metamorphosizing”)
To be green and croaking

Scene change

A corpse is rising
Alone.
Unloved drinking red (an Italian restaurant)

Sicily.

   -(note the mirror)

Autumn leaves fall
Seven meters per second
This is how we pray
Why pray that they stay
Suspended in air
The ground miles beyond perception.

And this is how we sin
Already three feet in
Stagnant pool water
Chlorinated.
Drowning
In a motel lot.

Five days fasted
A starvation artist in the making
No sugar, or coke, or baking
Ima starvation artist in the making!
On the sixth day you are breaking

One twelve once mocha latte
Three sips in and you spill it on the floor
Wondering
What's it all for.

There once was a gaggle of geese
Huddled around a tree
Were the fruit was just out of reach
How could that be?
That nature would put them in such close proximity
Yet the geese still could not reach  

I once had a mother named Jamie
Who told me nature would provide-
To always be good and kind,
Nature would provide.
She is gone now, and so are the geese.
So I know that cannot be
Nature will always keep her fruit just out of reach.

Taller than saint Peter

               A lover
Stood on wooden stilts
Varnished in tangential light
I could have been blind, for you were not
A seraph but a dream.

But what of dreams, of tombs
of consecrated fiction-
A currency of lies
Demarcated latin
annuit coeptis.

And yet I was abounded by sleep
And who said there could not be  
More on Heaven and Earth
Than in my philosophy

      Of you.

And your blunted foundation
Quivering at the knees

failure is a bag of lemons and the park yard pigeons 

that a women of ninety-two years carries with her everyday

come sleet or rain,

singing softly "please carry me away."

poor Martha.

pigeons don't migrate.

Reading my book against a stained-glass window.
I see you as you go
I see you with rose colored vision.
Divinely tinted
Red, pink, then blue
As you go out of view.
Back to my book- black print

Ten thousand flowers
Laminated, cold pressed on my window door
Plastered- blue white and yellow

Sing me a song, I like the way your voice bellows.
Ten thousand flowers
Falling, as her dress hits the floor

None of them are real
Im just sitting here, passing the hours.
Ten thousand flowers

Peaches
     /Tuesday/
Kingdom- Plantae
Genus-Prunus
Symbolism-softness, tenderness, but grounding in reality- foreboding my fantasy.

Used in prose:  peaches, with her plumpness, with her skin pressed against mine, seperated only by my budding insecurity. When will you go, will I be fine?
    If you are a peach, dangling from a tree, and I am only, A flower or the leaves. When will you drop? When will you plummet and with it, I wither and decay.
   If only I were a willow tree, no ornament linked, or if you could be plucked early, before sour becomes sweet?

squeeze the bottle tightly
Someone said don't go quietly.
Trace the vein
I feel something, but only slightly.

Summer's heat smother me.
Winter's wet chill goes throughout me.
I can move
It is too much to be unpleasant.

The moon out shines your brightness little star
Honey seeps from you to it
And when the moon goes to sleep,
The sun rises. and you, my little star disappear.

I will return to you another night
My luster may not be so bright
But I am here,
                           so stay with me?

King Perseus, not merciful but thirstiest
Tears weeping in his Well
Water's bounty, in the king's heart swells
emptiest, his is pitiless

Placating that rage
Spirting the way of sage

Object permanence makes the mental sour
Idealists, the opposite dour

Listening to musical notes as they are sang
Battlefields of yin and yang

Yang's lost its credibility
That seas lost its crossability

The middle Way's middle point
The yin is to anoint.

mistaken for lead
when blood bleeds black-obsidian
sheilded from toxicants

your soul comes home
you are standing against sea foam

clouds carry you across the ocean on a breeze
hovering above an infinite blue sea of being

joyously in sand castles shaped by levatity
you see in profound waves of possibility

My skin feels grey, stricken by match and burnt to cinder, coal, cracked and crisp.

walls break way to sand.
Sand-
sand and Ash are all that remain
when my body crumbles.

a time when youth bright with it green grasses and floral scents of flower.
An ode to time, when my time line fades
And there are no more scents, no more color, and all I am is sand, Build me into castle

Cumulus cloud dancing in the shape of a brooding storm, look at him.

My Little drummer boy centered in an orchestra of seraphim.

innocent in the eyes, how soft his skin.

Touch me so I may touch you,
Your lips are soft so please press them to mine-
Cupid's bow to Cupid's bow, love is blind,
Unsuspecting.
Roses bloom and their thorns bind.

it is the rain
it pitters solemnly
it never fades
it is the rain,
but you are the sun,
and the sun breaks way.
Reflection of the sun in puddles of mud.
there is beauty.

Skin like onion.
Peeled back layer by layer
Chopped by a blade.
Tears form in your eyes,
but.
Don't worry,
They're not real
It's not real.
just onion skin

Crackling skin-goes black.
Shades
You fade, you change.
Crevices-groves
I follow you, I watch you change.
At first I saw streams
Fresh flowing waters
It was sublime.
It dries
Canyons form
and you feel empty.

A deposition of two
I refer to you as an angel
I refer to you as a sunflower
Kronos may be the god of time,
But time goes by.
you may be an angel
you are no longer my angel
you may be a sunflower
you are no longer my flower

Flower of my flower
Lift from your loom
Bloom in sky so that man may see your color.
Flow, bursting in orchestrated blossoms.
My love my fade but may you shine ever so brightly!

Sitting in the base of a bathtub
Water wilting my skin
The middle of a foreign planet
Enchanted rainforests
No escape
Isolation