We stand outside and bathe -

in starlight and glow, of

histories in context

and roots.



Lives begun and deaths upon,

stream showers of

eternal end and story.



Les lumières in canopy

holding essence and finds -

us who seeded the ground,

that planted stories told;

from generation to single child.



The paths we take and roads

walked long, my pitch pipe

***** amuses.



Bellow the bloat and waste

the lamb.


2013 Barry Comer

We turn around

and find  pinholes,

water streams of light,

from stars

who swallowed

and took our lives.



With sounds of snorts

and whiskered,

bully throats.



Whose heart

am I searching,

in this season of

hello goodbyes?



We look

upon them long

into night,

such twinkles,

of stars

that stole our loves -

their sweet

tender smiles.



Give back our dreamers.



Lend to us more - for years

into years.



2012 Barry Comer

We sail smooth

runners iced and swelled,

in teas of black

with Chinese talk-talk.



Lay your hands on me,

such smoothness tickles;

my fuzz and temptations -

you feel.



It’s our room on

Boulevard Saint-Germain

where hush-hush is

our language of

blushed romance

and foreign lip-lock.



Les femmes de la noir -

tenez ma queue et tordez.



We watch the sky

and count the drops and

swirl our fingers over cups

and sculptured hair.



Saturday afternoons on

Boulevard Saint-Germain.


2012 Barry Comer

Amazon heats her burning waste,

she’s tickling time with paint squint eyes.

With a sinkhole grip of uncertain hold;

she just babble talk babble, babble just blah,

blah and blab.

She dropped the room flat cold -

down so down.

Stole the show, priced the surprise;

little to show and much too nosey,

mind your business, it’s all go go.

2010 Barry Comer

With the sweat of icons and glistened pearls in stone,
she wept for lambs lost, generations plowed under and
sweet potatoes that sun themselves.

This south, sweet heritage of folds, of historical nuance
and terrible crimes.

Lay with me tender, find coolness of the sheet and
breathe the mist of sad songs and foolish loves.

2010 Barry Comer

This is the song of girls
who pressed themselves close,
and tried to be, my friend.

The softness of hands and
golden sweet lashes, that planted
seeds of memories.

They gave their songs of giggles and
breaths, whose sweet drawn, never to
capture again.

In memory of them and their smiles,
the passing of time reveals just
essence flickering back
of my head, whose scents unique.

Beautiful women who nursed and raised,
but move so slowly for me, the air and
the temperature, the thoughts;
they float on water.

Give them peace with time,
give me one more taste, a tint of
hue, their drawn lyric,
before floating away,
ebbing in slow rhythm.

2010 Barry Comer – www.blackcatpoems.com

Born dead with blinding light,
we escape the mouth of time tugging back.

Riding the light and the charge,
it is a one-way straddle feeding the volts.

Look up, gaze down – it’s where we end,
a discharge in dirt.

2010 Barry Comer