It is a field
of cubicles,
rectangle walls
that rise
chin high
on either side,
in a rainforest of
of random plants.

Two fish
swim in
their own
aquarium
prison.

I drive at night
and my eyes find
dark water that reflects
and stretches
carnival lights
beyond their normal
lines.

I wonder
will my words
reveal
the truth
of how I feel
or felt.

I remember
myself
curled in a
a curving
form
when I
was very
young
and going
to sleep.

Knee
collapsing
into my
stomach,
hands
around
my knees,
as if
I was a
rolly polly
worm
or a child
who was trying
to remain
unseen.

Why did I
compact myself
in such a
manner?

architectural mollusks
    are falloping through
                              my brain
                        squeezing past the
                         instincts that
        have kept me down
My instincts,
              once brittle sea stars
                          that splintered
                                    into cracked
                                 peppercorns,
                 are now mixed with
           the breathy liquid
        of squid,
lubrication for
the spiny paths ahead
They blow their ink
between my
inverted vertebrae
      injecting Jello into bone
                           busting through
                        fiber and tissue like
                          fresh-skimmed
                    lavacream
and all my muck
rises to the top
in a neon rawness
that I find beautiful

Soon
my burning crevices
will be cooled
fossils will turn to flesh
and, as sure as knowledge
springs into action
I will make
for the shoreline
like a cephalopod rocket
silky smooth
my fins spun into wings
touching magic
as they glide

Our beloved Aunt Bertha.
She didn’t see pixies and elves
She saw ******* and jerks
With no obvious perqs!
That's the breaks of being someone
That, all by themselves,
Can have arguments and fights
And even though it wasn’t right
That is who she was, unique;
Immune to other people’s pique,
Surrounded by unseen creeps.

But she loved us kids, she did.
And found us when we hid
And cooked cakes and pies.
The love in her eyes spoke clearly
And nearly bowled me over
Because it was not deluded.
Yes, her quirks intruded on us
But we let her cuss and rail
At invisible fools. Those the rules.
She couldn’t help herself a bit
And that was the end of it.

So, we listened covertly
And overtly smiled at her a lot
Knowing what we had got
Was the dotty aunt they put
In the attic in the old days
In less loving times and ways.
But we loved her and wanted
A place not haunted by wardens,
And nasty nurses robbing purses,
Where she could live her life.

She liked to sing and dance
And every time I got the chance
I danced with her, as thin as a zipper
I guided this middled aged aunt
And when she started to pant
We changed the music to slow
And right back she would go.
She sang the tunes from the war
And more from movies and shows.
Can anyone know how great it is
To share with someone impaired
And know the gift you have shared?

The faint fauna falls behind me;
Thick coat encumbers my lumbering form
as I follow natures slightly frigid visage.
I am seeking something,
some soothing warmth
or soft storm
to calm my lonely soul.
I still seek some partner in life
but for now
I must settle for nature
as fair enough
for my affectionate love.

A random thought;
If we absorb
the stimuli
that surrounds us,
then everything
around us
becomes part of us.
So, by running
from the world
are we really
trying to escape
ourselves?

If we are really
going deep
into ourselves
we must
chip away
the unessential
distractions
to find the truth.

But I do not
pursue this
as much
as I want to
because
my distractions
are so nice.

She wears
a pink dress
with a pink
flowered crown,
as pink leaves
flutter
and fall
to the ground.

As an artist
I forgot
how to
draw the
feminine
form,
but
I used
the women
at the gym
to inform
and refresh
my amateur
artistry.

The sun begins
to descend
and I reach
to touch
that distant glow,
a dwindling fury
that falls,
to allow
the cold moon light’s
lovely ascension.

I wait,
longing to rush
that rapturous fire,
to devour
such radiance,
to feast upon
the atoms
that explode.

I am ravenous,
and jealous,
angry at
the otherside
that soon
will come to life
while I am
drenched
in night.

Begging,
I beseech thee
sun please don’t
leave me,

but the gaseous orb
ignores me
as I implore,
cajoling
with strange
disintegration fantasies.

The sun leaves me.
So, I start courting the moon,
because I do not wish
to live so lonely.