There was a time
when music meant
more than the
heartbeat in my chest

Through its veins
flowed notes of great inspiration

The heart raced to the rhythms , escalating elations

The spirit soared in explosions of glory and verbal fireworks awed

The vibrations tingled the
chill of skin

Who would have believed it could feel so great within

That was this , that was then

His thoughts chiseled
with no disgrace
Despite the humiliation
he stands his place
His face like flint
sheds sparks when struck
His choice to be here
was not by luck

The hungry
and the
the hunted

The visions
we never see

The fleet
and
fastidious

The ones
terminally ill
in turbidity


Where flare
the hearts
synchronize

The words
form meek
and criticize

But they
wind up
wounded

Not even dead . . .
the included are
excluded

The complex
complicity
swirling

The truth
comes down
a barreling

All around
occupies

deep
inside
the place

Drains the tears

he's had
to learn
to face

Now
he leans upon
the crutch

the vacuum
of years

Looking into the
mirror

Peers into the face

Petrified
he is bound

left standing
out of place

He has
no answers

Just the
dismay found
upon his face

Desperate
for a reason
why

But nothing
comes
near nor nye

just the image
of the fossil
in his eye

I planted a poem in a corn field
It sprouted and grew straight and tall
But its stalk was naked and bare of any pages
All the ears of corn could hear the wicked whispers about the corn **** amidst the corn rows of golden silky hair .

“where summer’s bronzes dull and sink”

the trees are like
wet coat hangers,
holding up the leaves,

my cat is frosty like
an october morn,
sleeping on the sill,

everything is dripping
like a wet pair of
jeans taken out of the wash,

the sky wears its greys
of cloud, dim and dramatic
it opens summer eyes.