Peacocking with Carnivalesque gyrations in leather
A machismo macho man fearless in boa feathers
Nubian jazz queen’s big Afro up doo, her nails did too.
Alpine foxy ski the white slopes bundled in chinchilla minks.
Charisma as vibrant as its dance, birds of New Guinea...
Hubristic fandango of Saturday night club kids
Eschewing their walk of shame, stained taints of train wrecks...

If worship is to Love,
As *** is to Lust
Why has church on Sunday
Become whispers of vespers
Fear mongered full of
Prayers?
If Love is to worship,
Who do you love enough
To die for?
*** is to lust as
Coffin is to a graveyard pit
Love is worship don’t get it twisted
Hail Mary hallelujahs
Praise no over lord
Your soul...?
Live a good life.
Be.
Peaceful.

O Crescent Moon

In the heights of Midnight

So bright, so still

Across the night sky

As daylight and forests burn

On the other side,

While here I am on Earth

Gazing up tonight

“Beautiful” I cry

A drowsy eye shines!

O Crescent Moon!

Do you see my love in the dark?

So still across the stars...

Among these godly spires:

Hot streets that gleam
harvesting
tourists from afar
pockets romancing
neon ***** and slots

our tables laid out to serve them
sliding doors and rollercoasters,
they are all ours

i dwell in its butterfly wings

with others who have stood
the fat rain and desert hail
in spring time
Crackling skeletal skeins
of lightning

Oh life, i am on-watcher...
blind from the sights,

sleep stealing summers
heat so disfiguring,
no longer listening
to cassettes in the car
melted like Dali art

the sun is a horrible comedian...
our winters are kite killing
my nose feels as if locked
by Samsonite
Winds wailing below freezing…

Among these lit boxes
copy cats and volcanic hopes
Mirage
through trials and tides
of creative construction of yore
most still stand *****

gambling on dreams
on days unkind, here i am
being pitied
a unicorn

losing / winded / coming out un-even
alive tho trying
to enjoy / her
admirable rivers of new
peoples and foods
fire-breathing signs
she has many stories up
beneath
her evening skin
& cold silver teeth

while i am young
she flashes me
underground
and
glowing candies...

Las Vegas

is my Grease-Lightning
and seductive Sandy.

These names of prey
In “His Name” they pray
Men name
The products on the shelf
Hot dog / Burgers
Bacon / obits.
Illegal hacks
Wet backs
We the people matters
Of lives
Chinks and Blacks
The ***** stacked
The Street Meat
The Addicts
Shopaholics Alcoholism
The names of prey
We, the products, on the shelf.

Epic… currents from a frozen heart,
tales, obsessions
A wrenching, unfreezing fist
raising sails
Like molten summits of emotions

To know one's own deepnesses
One's own submariner seas
How to breathe in it:

Darker trenches / squalls / the uncharted
Abysses alien to airy rowan cliffs and breeze
The cold of it lacking breath

Tho' Open sky, song of suns
Warms the flesh of its perception's anchor
Certainties
Tides
Symbiosis

The Brine

From icebergs of inexperience
To thirsts quenched
As Droplets
Borne from glaciers
Dancing ice

Drift
Rinse
Worlds, mine
Like ships in the night
Silhouettes in passing
Upon romancing
Skyline starlit moon
For the shadows since denied
The doubtful fall
These journeys now I choose to suffer

Thaws all such icy
Fears
In winters' noose
And from loss of strength
Sojourn hearts
No longer sharing
Meiosis breaths
or sail upon the truth

Accompanied
No one there—

Now singing sirocco
Aye aye captain!

Across the vast places
Frozen with no names
And arctic with none to blame
Map-less voyages of
Nautilus
Ahoy, Sir Loneliness!
Shameless
To Desolation, go—

A life cage,
If mine
Banished
On Tundra of time

Stalactites

This,
My own unfreezing
By simple choice, sublime.
Captain kid again, all mine
Joy the light
Truth my life

My whale of a ride
****
Epic.

1.
Poetry is
Writing what all we felt
When the heart is asked
To translate.

Poetry is
Love,
Made malleable
Through the eyes
Which behold beauty.
Poetry is Life,
The love of life, malleable.
Poetry is meant to be
Touched by
To be moved by
(and with)
Love...

Poetry is
A song of words
A dance of exuberant emotions
A Grace
       Full of gracious
(a)  Lover's kiss.

Poetry is
Jump for joy and stabs of sorrow
Sculptor Singing Sepulchers
Molding nights & days
A mash up
Into one and the same
Something brand new
Reinventing
Recollections
Of / For / To  - You
True blue or Red hot stuff
We lie to believe in
Ourselves
Something better / New
Flower Love Child
You had better
Best believe
Poetry is
You.

2.
It's not what you're looking at,
But what is seen.
What you see / what you feel
In the zeal of heart's appeal
A beautiful up-lifting
To artistic heights

Poetry is
Mortality made miraculous
Charisma and magic
Choreography of verb / Oh's Of nouns
All the world - a profundity
Of Our lives
Whether lost or found

The Love letters / in red envelopes
Your heart
Crowd surfing
Amongst the herd;
Blossom bouquets of passions
Poetry is

The quietude and secrets
Kept
In the shade
In a home, a warmth made
Or an ode to a glade,
For the night
Of the empty souls'
Respite

Poetry is...
Your bleeding heart
Shining bright
Your Grace
An invisible light
Only to be seen
By knowing
One's true
Feelings

Poetry is
A Painting
Of Love's loud moments...
It's not what you gawk at,
But what is gleaned.

Poetry is...