Those Orcas that just got out of frame
fame and fortune in that shot-glass 'Sound'
and focused; coke-bottle vision into depths
far deeper than their soundings, though
secondary in nature and posed as opposed
to that pod's posse of curving mammals
arched into each wave or trough
in that fluid home we call Puget
with the sound of ferry engines
breaking the silent sail boat's cut
and jib as it too arcs its slack in black/white
canvas waving to windward destinations,
as each click-shutter-whirl encapsulates
drops of sun, sea gull and horizon
ghosting as though mist were sky
semi-filled number painting panoramas
and water-color soaked landings
bringing us closer to docked domains
and they disappeared into a dimpled surface
evading this circular myopic lens

-cec

This high desert thirst of solitary longing -
marooned on dunes of sculpted torsos
feelings twisting in dust-devil soaring
attuned to sifting sand's mirage overflow  

In an hour's glass a toast to pairs anywhere
than here in singular uninhabited thoughts
raised voices to a three penny opera choir
that a Deus ex machina will free hearts caught

Quench these passion's villains, angels, human maul
strip this mannequin's stupor, reveal its living form
bring your hands and sooth with scented oil, brow
hold this lover's vow, and keep an evening's warmth

-cec

Venus de Milo, you chiseled charmer
all metamorphic, translucent and solid
arms missing parts in time's struggle
reaching out in postdiluvian armor

David brought to life his stolid member
Zeus put on a swansong aftershave
all your polished full frontal ******
etching volumes to ages and civilization

≈ cec

Your going seems an impact crater on Mars-
Old, with high ridges, distant and barren
Kilometers of striated landscape circumscribe you
This unimaginable visit; with little atmosphere,
stark shadows and light defining a wilderness whole
Hospital corner seams spell of violent invasion
vast stretches of gray dust pretend-cloud vistas
From this coup d'oeil, layers above your subterraneous thoughts
features once habitable, since blasted outwards
leaving strewn an eons life of orphaned rock
a mere whisper of once vast sea's potential
a whimper's noiseless remembrance lost
This journey home is comet dark in infinite parsecs
traveling farther each ways entangled heartache;
a quantum solace for another day to come

-cec



*n, pl - coups d'oeil (ku dœj):
a quick glance [literally: stroke of the eye]

It's going to go on,
for years.
T-cell hurricanes
eye these vital days
graft vs. host no more

no more crying (for now)
time stopped before a cure
when flowers, trees, rainbow birds
visited past autumn's hour
to gaze upon an empty feeder

a stolen picture of youth
pinned upon a naked wall
a serious face looking back
as though to say, "If I,
in morning wake, it's a good day!"

-cec

Heart, be still your desire
she does not know her wait
you delay in longing hours
in consummation of this fate

each and every loving gesture
days observed of them and one
seals in searing branded texture
of a wound that rivals sun

self inflicted desolation
looking for a golden fleece
through these trials and tribulations
steeled to wander for that kiss

-cec

Some made oft' with William's skull-
Richard's feet in shallows, grave;
forced to lay a crooked neck-knave
by Will's deliberate quill and mull.

You'd think these men of infinite rest
would sate our time to jaw-bone
about cruel pranks and kingly jests
before alls' fate to join prone.

We raise a cup to toast our dead
though throw them in like baggage
and bide through age unfinished dreads
before ourselves are fed to maggots.

-cec

this feeling
bears no home in one thought
here in this heart it dwells
beating orchestral thunder
waiting its next tidal currents
bringing closer a stranger specter
paws impressed on deep forest moss
wandering easy with force and might
descending within a primal wilderness
jolting these foundations
in passion's yield

cec

No, the sun radiates
this moon bathed in light
down to despair’s depths
life survives in city’s rubble
myriad hands digging hope
hearing cries for one more day
powdered wigs, faces, clothes
dry weeping in shadows
separated by earth’s broken back
sculpting a landscape of destruction
with miles of piled masonry
under a magnifying lens of tears
hearts and minds, bulwark
against each darkness found
a swarm of humanity tunnels
saving one more precious being
gently carried into distressed search lights
and the arms of a caring world

-cec

half-moon's amber blush
sky's heliotrope sunset
summer's burnt offer'

-cec

Overflowing, this cistern holds
night rains visited on pastures
seeping into soil as greens unfold
in early morning mists and sky's azure

Rivulets weaving dowse a liquid path
on journey's slip through gravity
in stream's current with its drifting mass
of water-bug boats and smote bound propriety

-cec

Dear MIA─
are you all-together there
in the middle meadow?
or do your legs bob down-
stream on a turbulent current?
ball blown by cannon's snort
resounding echo at gathering
triangle's bar calls to family arms
embracing memories of the missing

the dog tags wine on distant shores
scratching in the mud of our before-father
mothers in their labor fear, and loath
each forgetful life added to the toll
fenced in by limp flags near stone mounds
buried with ritual lies of nationalist hounds
each border marking a resting place
for an unknown billeted body, not there

-cec

Invisible in a snowy owl winter storm
holiday poltergeist grasp tight; hearts, minds
feelings, sight, potent in our wild season
coming home free, mule humble

Hello old dog, cat doesn't move but tail
lights on a green pine leaning kitty-corner
some slouch on stuffed sofas sleeping
some sit on stiff cardboard carpet dreams

Bell silver rings dinner in on lace covered tables
while iron tolls ring for pennies in deep snow
silent night winds singing in tongues
lift up these spirits and toast ages told

Memories drill their custom fading holes
leaving tinsel and wand bulbs percolating
bubbles dancing in ever fevered souls
wishing for one more Yule to commemorate

-cec

Hobbler, the crow, was lame
but he had game, and props
being a few other birds, not game,
city birds, begging and scavenging
savaging, all the same road ****
chill when humans came close
they became verbose, false bravado
for weightless bags of bone and feathers
whether or not noticed, scurrying
ducking under benches, cars, then
flapping half a bird lap up, down
around the service lamps; the scamps!
Their pirate leader does its one leg hop
and one can imagine a gang plank stop
with a heave-** flank and up they rise
into the market sky and to return
short of a ****** but gang none-the-less

-cec

rain lines pelt a glass window
looking out to a wet asphalt street
under a gray-scale bloated sky
where clouds push and billow

winter arrived with autumn's face
sad, with eyes full of years
these winds howl a lonesome veer
where sleepless trees shed leaves

above lie stones, below is rest
as grass imbibes through root
in morning's dark or lighted night
days colors are alike

winter arrived with autumn's face
a mask now cold once warm
while ina grave of earth's embrace
lie testaments of storm

-cec

awake, awake, the time grows near
when winter casts its net

awake, awake, this time of fear
where tyrants rule and wreck

in town and village people bear
as mud runs in the streets

our city fathers slink to lair
while villains rage and reap

awake, awake, the time is here
to hand and raise alarm

call out to heroes brave with cheer
to save good ways from harm

awake, awake, the land does roar
will make this sphere complete

our children's calls must give us cause
regain this garden sweet

-cec

Wonder Wart-Hog succumbed to his powers,
“Was it the beer?” on his adopted planet
raised by hillbillies who were unable to eat him
As misanthropic as his neighborhood denizens
he is fated to bring swine justice, to the greater evil villains,
with his haphazard hog combat
living in a welfare toothed city scape
with broken-bottle-wielding alleyways
our superhero lumbers and snorts forward
into the breach of the seedy underbelly
of a schizoid society seeking hoodie anonymity
or zombie relief in a pick your poison age
This “Hog of Steel” though mild mannered
in his unaltered ego of Philbert DeSanex
fights for a labored truth, law and order
while delivering absurd antics on unsuspecting consumers of fascist pickles and bureaucratic saltines

-cec

there is a feeling of depth
found in a rocking row boat
hinting at a bottomless sea
where the unspeakable squirms
and light is a lure into stalactite teeth

consumed and digested by stillness
thought's bubbles emerge to rise
decompress on their upward journey
and break that surface once more
where we float as wet oars push on

-cec

A bell hangs freely from a belt loop ring, stone within, spheres of music resonating deep into a forest ear echo, oscillating into solemn moments of moss and salal ravine's silence, followed by silence, as a fading Doppler effect withdraws into pine trees, taut web threads, sympathetic, vibration's fingers tingling a spider's meditative bewilderment as this wave unfolds through each wooden nook giving way to currents of scented sound having touched glen's fragrance and paw print wells of dew.

-cec

again and again
the, Thy, story does not end

I watch the people come and go
near lake's hidden lilys, again and again

fiddle like winds play a tumbling riddle
brown leaf ghosts dance music eternal

distant wild cactus flowers crack open
like Rumi's heart, a sacred mystery of love

where wind chimes sound good bye
and Theseus' ship still sails, by and by

-cec

Walking the dog
is more than a yo-yo trick-
More than a water-logged stick
thrown far into a steel colored lake
Watching as a circling hound
paddling *******, as it wakes
intent legs cycling beneath surface tensions
not far removed from floating penchant
tries to suss out submerged desires
jettison old interest in new branch
mesmerized by miraculous hand magic
amending a perplexed carte blanche
turning in furtive swim back to shore
and wringing out a backbone shake
honest eyed and loyal told
mute but for a movement's bent arch

-cec

vacant, yet soot black
eyes could not see your smoke stack
cut roses coughed spring

-cec

she was a flower in bloom
gracing the noon day sun
both golden, as one

a cardinal vision, to one
captivated by her sight
to spiral in vertigo and swoon

as beauty was singular in this
all indications would lead to a kiss
in endless harmony and bliss

forces beyond their control
possessed their love to unfold
in the fullness of life’s country road

stirred coffee and cream do swirl
as they danced to a yin and yang world
then one last kiss for his breathless girl


-cec

you carry old baggage in straight suitcases
full of contrition’s contractions, each rosary bead spent
dragging sorrowful daggers of spite
pity self-pity’s pity, no others or places

killing softly with words, not deeds
psychic murders in poesy lines
each keystroke a slasher’s razor bleeds
disregarding tender hearts and rhyme

history’s ink well spill on your page
born-out to suffer blue outrage
sworn blind with fear of life’s gift
unwilling grace to heal this rift

-cec

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

What's in that eye's allure?
As yours ask, come closer
Lo! brushing lips insure
a kiss, sweet in-form her
stronger feelings attest
there is life in this love
absolute heart's tight chest
spellbound, courting foxglove
In those eyes a fissure
each pupil dilates
no rope cleft, he falls sure
blind and stutters, awaits
passion's reckless stumble
into arms, legs, embrace
whispers roll and tumble
thoughtful in interlace
apace, evening lingers
fingers locked in fingers

-cec

Shakespeare's 'First Folio'-
comely words for a human race!

-cec

Pull your waste belt tight boy
before this winter comes
there are hairy beasts prowlin'
with their razor smiles in jaw

Pull a belt notch more boy
listen for lines' thin ice
for when you get your tail wet
it freezes up quite twice

Pull that leather firm boy
don't let your bones grow slack
for when this winter comes
it's you that pay a price

-cec

Where do birds go at night?
When winter's silent furies
turn Hawthorns white,
cotton light on ground and grade.

Where do birds sleep till dawn
while pillowing clouds, twice height,
slumber across this evening sky.

Where do birds go to dream?
Swirling, feathered flurries,
to shiver off frostbite extreme.

Then upon a morning light
to round and wakeful nigh
with muffled wings burst into flight
tree branch waved goodbye.

-cec

Waiting --

hanging on a taught thread
a breeze of tender caresses
air, as molecules, provides life
for now

each tethered knot appointed
pearls on string, in space, through time
echoing eons of primal schemes
forward in the stillness

dangling from one ancient ligature
on silken line suspended
twisting, spinning in dry wind
its storied form tells of the hunt

-cec

Where footling trees do grow
nature, apologies need not know
vistas look back at you with eyes of snow
stones, high meadows, and silver timber knots

purple lupines and fire-**** that blush pink
held firm in gravel hands meet lichened erratics
where mountain's complexion in eon's blink
altered antonym of greens and browns chromatic

Where footling trees do grow
clouds shoot over passes round
to sprinkle, clap showers or to plow flows
marmots don down and burrow to ground

seeds and feathers take to their wing
branches' memories bend to storm's prowl
with constancy of change born on this wind
brutes in caverns and caves utter growls

Where footling trees do grow
a precipice of nascent springs leap
into; pine, spruce, ericaceous woodland below,
to gush as creeks, washout to river's slow keep

dappled light and streaming ray divides
fall forest floor with lulling murmur flutters
there bridge a span in wood knock strides
where clinging moss rolls bread and butter

-cec

no ordinary love is love
plucked from a Mimosa tree
in pink with tips of yellow pollen
that charms crow on wire's talons
to leap in flight when no else calls
as though heart itself were sun

-cec

"The poets eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven;
And as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and name."

- A Midsummer Night's Dream (V.i)