Wind always knows
it limitation
as it writes its swirling
scripts upon threadbare roof.
Lamentations for the
fields of empty prairies
as the dry leaves rustle
in strings of grass…

i do not know
my boundaries
the geographical shapes
of my darkness
for life
has been left empty
with only a puppy
of narrowness
to feed
scraps of plain verse too.
How the tail wagged for years
as empty …

i light candles
like images on the window
of my smile
for the sputter of light
is much more reassuring
than the breathless darkness.

i recite my own alphabets
that i have
hidden in the mysteries of my throat
and marvel as the moonlight passes
through the simple words
the trellises of upper
and lower case

Shades i have formed
with my craftless hands
and letters
speak upon the glass
of outside
like frost
for i have found my true words
and they fit my squalor
with a strength of calmness
for darkness cannot
abide in smallness
so it leaves me
as the darkest raven
ever imagined…

for i long
to be scissors.
silver cutting
a snowflake
out of the depths
of your bible.

fold and cut
and new
scripture
flow
from old.

for i long
to be scissors
through
my
shadow
remains
a stone.

Empty cars drive down
the roads of my soul.
While rain falls and collects into pools
of lost memories.

That sing in a half remembered language,
images that flow into forms,
as strange lizards crawl out from under
their polished runes at the curbs.
To swim down the lanes of the road
cuneiform between phantasmal tires and chimerical highways.

As the fishtails of the jalopies,
wiggle as they echo down the byways.
Past luminous sunflowers the size of small cities.
While beautiful women with long damp hair,
weave wild flowers from the empty fields,
and place them on their brows    and between the shells of their ears,
and ignore my phantom passing with their mysterious labors.

My teeth morph into typewriter keys
i slowly pull a sheet of simple paper
across my cold metal spindle  
and with my dreaming eyes:
watch the chrome unicorn on the front of my automobile,
strain the sky tears as the raindrops loft down,
like liquid diamonds,
and splash against the glass panes of the wind shield.
This silent single horned hood ornament
is like a weather vane pointing
to otherworldly horizons
hope shimmers in the liquid deluge.

It hard to know
Why i was expelled
From the fundamentals of poetry.

Each day
Like a loyal monk
i played my flute
With the basket
Over my head.
As the lemmings
Passed
In quadrangles of co-eds.
For everything i must remember
Something must be forgotten.

Often the days
Of learning
Have attempted to remove
Both the marrow and my intuition
From my bones.

Learning is to suppress
Creativity within
Like a poor mouse
Dreams of cheese.

In the first graduation
A woman matriculated
From Adam’s rib.

Into my textbook
i stuffed the snowflakes
i have cut craftiness
With my artless intellect.


Learning
Is ego
And i am
Priest of nothingness.

Some times
The best koans
Make ice-cream cones.

Moon sparrow flies far in the calligraphy of night.
Little fellow find your wild winds in shimmering ink.
Your wings are well-spoken in the sequences of open spaces.
Write your poems in the corners of your eyes

Little fellow find your winds in shimming ink.
Far from the fields you trend.
You tend the trees of speaking
Offer the fruit of images within the words.

far from the fields you trend.
for those that grow not letters in their pots.
offer the fruit of images  within the words,
You write in the simple penmanship of soul

In the lore of leaves always Woman
Moon light  & sorcery combs
Mysterious desire
As transparent cities in my ribs make roots
Scrimshaw jumble the sky and earth with mysterious kiss
Ah, the self-fulfilling prophecy of griffon.

Often i have felt griffon
Within me as i read the curves of Woman
Chanting spells and writing the stars within my kiss
my lips form  letters on your corners and combs
the dark roster of remainder roots
Within the potent growth of uncontainable desire.

Dark is the unspoken desire
That within me shapes  a griffon
Talons and the roar uniform of its roots
Weird talents of Woman
Release the door closed in me as you comb
the tresses & the navel that moon envy in its monthly  kiss

Delicious kiss
Stir desire
Release the magic fur with combs
Transform the inward griffon
Come closer Woman
The tree must spread its roots
Dark are omens of  roots
Within the bedchamber there is only kiss
luminous nefarious Woman
i am appalling in my desire
Transforms me into monstrous word, griffon
no flesh but shadows within  the combs

Unfathomable combs
Intoxicating roots
the midnight eruption of griffon
my beak  kiss
with hybrid desire
such monstrous cage is the comely love of   Woman


She combs and  polymorphs  with a  kiss
now only roots the  shapely diagrams of desire
as a griffon sprouts  feathers   is bound to charms of  sky clad Woman

How often
Have they tried
To make up
Our minds?

Ironed our options
Steamed our opinions
And sewed on
A few missing buttons
Onto our threadbare perceptions.

Some of us
have escaped
Their tender mercies.
By taking on the vocation
Of an under- stuffed  scarecrows.

What do we know
About The mechanics
The inerrancies of  glitter .
The creaky sanction
Below our thoughts.

But whatever
Dark  ceremonies
They plan
With the diagrams
Of dances
On hearth of our stone hearts.

The chicken , the robot
The winter dragon boogie…

They may miss
Subtracting the soul
From the bell curve.
Their imagination is understaffed
And the augury of their footsteps
Need a certain dark polish.

No matter our the spelling
Of our zany  misshapen alphabets.
There are  always a few
Crows to stalk the stanzas
The script of the Fields
We guard in our slumber
As our garments
Burn
In sun’s morning duty.

Adversaries ready to steal
With dark feathers
The plump opportunities
The fruit from
The green leafy lines
Of our unicorn free fountains.