left the water running
a slippage of the mind
how long it ran through plumbing
quizzed a liquid block of time

how swift the thought had faded
with fluid cascade views
of an otherness that waded
into ponds of current muse

as a conversation bubbled
and the tangents went astray
leading to the very bobble
that forgetfulness betrayed

-cec

these spent hands still toil
digging in this drawn soil
watching a worm stretch
and pull, stretch and pull
soon dusk will slip in
moving with grains of sand
casting small shadow bands
over this garden tended
and overgrown with love
this bush rose red bloom
holding a waiting perfume

-cec

all the colors rule —
in long cylindrical forms
cast onto desks, holding cups
wood, metal, lead, black ink blue
jars of fluid alphabet soup
stirred with thoughts, dreams
dipped and scribbled on stave
or ancestral bones written
Here our tools, our daily read
stripped from stone wall stead
this savoir-faire to: Dear Sapient

-cec

when violins play
sound becomes a miracle
taken: from a cat's gut
horses' swishing tails
tree spirits and spine rosin,
flying into the air
climbing infinite heights
to land in patterns
on these confluent tarmacs
of hearts and music

-cec

but her heroics was tragically 1945
she found herself a martini shy of sane
cats filled her half full cup in a tiny house
with a garden of overgrown raspberries,
creeping violets, dandelion and shotsy-****

one story, split level bungalow blues
smoking cigarettes into chains
with an occasional store stroll
blind doctor visit, and neighborly chat
atop damp earth with subterranean worms

they found her dead in her chair
sitting out her physical existence
stains of her last **** between her fingers
the ash length not having fallen
in respect to her final perfect moment ...

-cec

Den of Iniquité Master, Dungcan Pmurt
belly hanging, button popping
sitting on edge of a sofa, sipping soda
dreaming of flames and fortune

-cec