I took a shower with Heaven
once under
a brilliant
sky of splashed milk.

She exploded,
   then giggled
at our *******-sounds,
the beautiful noises
we made in earnestness
up against the slippery wall.

Once said
Birds of a feather flock together
Same goes for pigs and swine
I say
People together; all shape & size
Love n dance & commune with wine.

You are in as little a hurry
This morning
As you've ever been.
Re-engage your safety.
Holster your stress.
Your car is a gun.
Your key the trigger.

Two ton hollow-points flying
Down every street in the world; lead
In search of potential tissue.

The father witnessed his own heart
-Shape and weight of a five-year-old-
Break into molecules midplay
On the parking lot
Under a blind reverse.
Perhaps the groceries blocked her view.
Clip emptied in a split second.
Your car is a gun.
Your car is a gun, a child's tunnel vision
As narrow as the barrel of a .22.
Aim carefully, away from people.
Squeeze, don't pull. You hold lives with
Your steering wheel. Destinies under your feet.
Every turn you make has room for tragedy.
Your car is a gun.
A hot, smoking gun.

You are in as little a hurry
This morning
As they are to put something so
Small in the ground
And return with heavy unhealable hearts
To a house
That won't see them smile
For another five.

~

Say cheese


I don’t recognize my footprints anymore,
flash bulbs and dusty breaths
distort my sight and laugh
I barely recognize my name
as if anyone might call
on the gusts of barren life that hit me full force

Lost in a silent thought  
bouncing from shutter to shutter
blistering paint and chipping sorrows
outside the windows, smeared of tears
resting on cheddar sills
reflecting unknown images, as I stare

Photographic headlines swing on wire fences
twisted around dreams and laced with unforgiving pain
rusting in the rain, falling piece by tiny piece
until words read like fragmented sentences
in amber speckles on the walk,  
asking me to believe

A three legged cat begs for a mouse,
yet the only thing held in this trap is me
folding another fitted sheet (I hate folding fitted sheets)
as Tripod claws at my leathered skin
trying to erase the scars, captured in the lens
which mocks me…say cheese

Nine in mind when thinking of intuitive

Intelligence honed, ‘swhen finger pressed pen
Narrowed of folks, lest one grasps thee ant
*** for tat induced, Anatol did conceive
Unsolder misfortune; twas this you lost heart?
Iambics in poets, well known from the Greeks
Treaties raised high, nations rise higher
Introvert dig deep, tis best; never lose sight of ones antipode
Versatile ‘twill  mold you, to truth will it lead
Eyes fixed on all creatures, tis they that know best