Let me tell you a story of uncle Joe ,
he died one night with his wife in bed ,
she held his hand as his ghost departed.

Before we laid Joe to rest ,
one last photo of the family we thought best ,
all dressed in black ,
we knew Joe won’t be back .
We propped up Uncle Joe on a chair ,
the family all around had gathered there .
My sister even combed her hair ,
all for Uncle Joe .
Our faces grim for it wasn’t the thing ,
to laugh and joke for the camera .
as still we stood ,
like a block of wood,
one last shot of Joe for the camera .

At least the sun did not shine ,
oh blessed be thine ,
to rest Uncle Joe with Jesus ,
for that is best ,
for in heaven he now rests ,
with his beloved saviour .

bid me follow, unbutton that grimy work shirt,
present me ruby nippled *******, silently commanding
worship, suckling, an invitation to come unto me,
my initiation to the pleasure of getting to know you intime

you will laugh with surprise, as the anointing oil of relief
crowns your head, slicking down to caving cavities,
river running in crevices, that feed the buried places,
replenishing the almost forgotten secret of letting go

your pleasure is my greatest pleasure, for long known
the best taking lies beneath unabashedly giving, gentrifying,
you will full fill me, me eager drinking your noises, releasing
my purposes, coming to take my re-education you remedying

your short fingernails will pierce, new additions to my scars,
my history, your chapter, verse and stanza, all now, a claim upon me, that cannot be refused, for elemental silk threads now bind, each may pull, at either end, for the thread is of our singular commonality,
human tissue

Our feelings are crushing together,
We are two birds of impossible  feather.

In the sheets of drizzle below the autumn cloud
eyes beaming with the glow of love
wave at the receding figure
to the farthest visibility.

The man leashed to the cubicle with the screen
would think of those faces
when the day is at its broadest invitation
and light like the luminous ether
fills every dark pocket of the land
listening to the rhyme of the clock
from his abyss of ratios and rates
while the vagabond clouds come together
and break apart in the game of revealing blue
painting new faces and waving hands
on the landscape of the gate
up to the farthest turn
in the sheets of drizzle
beneath the autumn clouds.

Live life with an hunger to help others.
Love all whom come into your life here.
With a hunger to do to them here always.
For you never know whom you are helping.
The bible says that you might be entertaining Angels.
So never be afraid to help those that you meet.
You might get the best blessing on the earth today.