David-sculpture  Eros' wings
Lovelorn youth in search of Spring
his only hope in traveling
a peace from broken promising
poetry's earth-shattering sage
magic an optimistic stage

Loveless : puppet to self-worth,
Lovelorn still has yet to learn.

Love defends as guilt will fight
lessons of fires and appetite
Loveless is insatiable to hide
new ecstasy festooned with pride

Loveless will wail and cry
Lovelorn wakes free to fly

learning that love is self sacrifice
yin and yang so prophesied:
gifts to waking minds sublime
all seeds are sown in fields of time...

As Loveless screams his agonies
wide eyes drool over magazines
Lovelorn runs piningly
for more to always feel at rest,
for something golden as the sun

Loveless could care less,
empty having none
defeated before having won?

Love defends as guilt will fight
Both will weep when they see the light...

Tears from Less will burn regret
'Lorn lets flow to Openness
peace of mind knows happiness

both alone yet never so
and when two meet
as One will teach :
burying all the misery,

both similar with their sorrows
all must wake up now--tomorrow.

Alone or less, love will be
found in fields of dreams that sing
*David-sculpture / Eros' wings.

The mind is a fragile glob of a thing
central command /
controls to the push buttons.

...and there is a reason
why the surgeon-generals
scientist's with their lab-rats
                  witch-craft
place warning labels
on cigarettes / monoxide fumes
cancer wafting in

and reasons why
the educational systematic d.a.r.e.
warns of the downfall
having anti-drug
show and learn
with actual footage
         films about enbibed catastrophe
black and white Ansel shots
needles / puncture holes / junkies

(show them,
they do not wince
they've become tolerant,
immune to their everyday occurance
like morning coffee's
little push.)

Slides on red tape ******-scenes
angry D.A.D.D.'s
S.A.D.D. mothers
radical vehicular
Mr. A Anonymous
involuntary
man-slaughter
Non Applicable
Under the influence
teaching
prevention
to the already numb

Although experience
is the best kind of good teacher
to be a youth in our day

is to be impetuous
capricious
typical
naïve  
mistaken,
even grievous

when i wish now
since from before
the voices that whisper

in my head
my name
tell them to
close the door

that keeps them out

behind
them...

“The thing about love is that we come alive in bodies not our own”
                      --Colum McCann (Let The Great World Spin)



How often have we departed,
Only to return for those accomplishments
Yet to be attained
in complete relinquishing of all chains.


Doubt is kicked aside like boxer briefs
Allowing our starkness to trust the ease
Of limber flight its heights
when bodies feel more of heaven
removed from themselves

as if an out of body replacement
in each other’s unexpected ache and deprivation


There is nothing more immense of touch
Than to experience it with/&/in another
To become elation and levitation without wings

Love if only a brief conjuring of taste
is better explained in skins met and kept
oddly artistic  - like fetal sleep -  its shape :
Two minds, their temples, composed and content

At their waist:  **** / umbilical / magic spent.
Hearts between them beat, overcome
by rhythms from heaven, sent…

how often than not, have we left such captions
of shared life / ecstasies
to the halls of unremembered
the ill-equipped journeys by the ignorant
by the newly seeing youth that we were

rushing ahead for bigger sensations to better
the previous fun, without caution, defunct on ***
dizzy inside maelstroms overwhelming, yet freeing...

Behaved as anyone would at losing sight
following no roads displaced eyes not to recognize;
all thoughts scrupulous doors, dreams mapped absurdly

fearless Jenga of a life, a leaf in the wind falling from Sky

naïve belief - its all good, yet lonely numb inside
still the hollow hungers and also hurts
misplaced pathos, uncaring of worth your dirt...

How do we evolve without wellbeing or love
why are we, if not measured for the crown of kings?
How often do we listen before our voice is strong enough to sing?


Loving through gifts of our intermingled feelings
Bodies we speak wordless into being, one skein of light
From pitch dark and lost reasons, wakes to its pealing
Night is as beautiful in light’s mystic gleaning
Found in another’s succor, two bodies divinely beaming…

i made with you / gumby graphics

gifts of kiss

parameters of malleable minutia in misfit music

meanderings of our midnight sting

     our bodies in bonafide brevity, singing

seeking seiks' mischievous apathies

on the fringes

IMAX movie-like scenes without acting out / words

tongues

the levity or suspenseful sanctions / unhinged

     members and mouths mapping galactic absurdities

Mars and mercurial in star-crossed appetites

burning as suns should; meteorites / streaking sky;

in wonderful dining and gustful bites - eyes

    full of asteroid-desires coalescing

masculinity in every copious opus / in rites

of unforgiving depths / in blinding supernova nights,

forever ever / in a name of fantastics and amoebas

    these boys worshipping planets x, y, z / emotions coax & ***** elastic

strength of steeds, drinking the implacid body's

mead / wrestling without a fight's reprieve

fires, our mouths, / incite body-art / completely received

     intrigued with warm inner spaces

     paint brush of hours in museums of sweat / engraved,

encased / ******* sunburst theories on theories of tastes

and comets stroked / our body-art in hues

which love forever ever levitates . . . in spacial haste

      wormholes and Thanatos amused.

Beautiful Eros rain : Bodies paint.

(nebulae & you.)

I am full on wonder
from basking in the love
in your eyes
not knowing how to lie
or become hollow
looking down...

Let the bulls run past
Don't let that lightning flash
die
not your spirit into glass
In your eyes
I can feel   (at last)    forever...

with Love, together

I am full on wonder.


*Ask why can't I
be loved... like that - with all that
kind of thunder?
              too young yet for such loud hunger
  
stay fly cupid's child
don't go to older
                    hangrily mourning
not just yet  
relive your jet's / slow burn
if there's only one roll
it's your turn
               on the die -- just once I'd like
to see someone smile...

The mind of my youth
ain't afraid to die --quicksilver
                               
my lightning love is
deepest with your thunder

Listen to an old man...
stay young and get
                                 full on wonder.

Evening shimmers wet with Autumn rain
It's sheen reflectors, mirrors, eyes

Of cavorting shadows amongst the fey
Like city tinsil this Samhain night,

Oh how lovely colors celebrate
With ghostly kin & youthful lights...

With cirque painted skins and facade
Of candied ghoulish grins,

How sweet & innocent the haunted highs
Infects each home, "trick'r'treat" of hymns.

Laughter like All's been forgiven,
All seems right, again...

Though hidden faces -  forgotten sins,
Speak sie la vie this holiday,

With carved pumpkins, witches' cry,
Screams are as illusion as the fright,

This Samhain even tide .

It's all babes and monsters ball
This hallowed eve
This Samhain night

Tra la li, tra la lay
Then tomorrow is Hop tu naa...
The days after for all our saints...

Come the winter will be white,
As the ghosts this Samhain night.

[PLOT

                 on the green / Cemetery Row]

A stroll

through Carthage stones...



Gargoyles in grey gloamings

of Autumns

of Winters

of the remains of days

the done-buried

keep secret in rigor mortis  

kiss



the grave

pushing up daisies, the cherished

our cherubs below tombstones

there lays

In green tarmac flights

On crucifix runways




Mausoleums with eyes

of pyramids and storms

house the ravens watching ghosts

from above just ants below,

beneath undulating cotton lakes

Upon the soil and worms and

souls


           mausoleums...


As granite angels mime

upward in prayer

waiting in the weight of the lifeless

wake

    white marbled expressions

consternation

    of devil may care

None for statues or halos

they're capture in boxes,

coffins / all inmates

                                The American gothic gallows


Caustic the silences

once stories of beams of light

Such lives afire

now mere half paragraphs

in respite /

In unforgiven mires


[On a plot of green

in cemetery row...]


Gargoyles in the mist

these arrested flights

of wish dismissed

of effulgent life


through the spindle of an hourglass

spider-webs of fog

where I share my path

Here the haunted besides (roaming)

a land of quietude

                 futures devoid yet still turning

The cyclic times

The unlearned

dreaded cold below


[On a plot of green, Cemetery row...]


Rest will happen

but my spirit is a phoenix

Great flocks of birds


Asphodels


Whilst

taking a stroll...

Past plots of green,

        In cemetery row


How such silences scream :

         the fallen :

death's blanket of snow.


[Carnage. &. Stone.]

New
To this plasticity,

Grey matter in a nimbus
Mind as infinitely hollow as

A galaxy or dungeonous dream
Lost to the starlight oblivion

Of distances we place
In the familiar / fealty and touch:

Our human gravity
Spirits and superstitious will

Heavy by testaments and old teachings still.
Yet war has been our

Problem-child
And like the parents that we are

These days, digital,
We are unwilling to accept its prognosis

Nothing more can be
Poured into a vessel,
Nothing more can be fed into the flame,

If ash and black
Lift into the sky…

It will be alien

To even try to
Resurrect another age

When there is no warmth or
Use for light

In a world that has become
alien…

Listening to the ***** din of Sin

City streets

inside the concrete weight of dark rooms

the window ajar

to let the outside air in

while chain smoking to the Metro sirens'

soundtrack

of harpies' in heels

clucking and squealing

(laughter as sharp as their stilettos)

this & midnight overshadowing

black rubber tires burning on black boulevards

vehicular collisions'

sounds stalagmite, metallic

crunch

against the hum of sleeping traffic

signals

hollow city like a wide amphitheater

with the occasional Harley motorcycle's

thunder

waking car alarms

               a choir of infants' high pitch wailing...


The desert night's sirocco hiss

outside my 2nd floor apt. window

in a dark room

where my silence is a deep listener

and my mind a curious wanderer,

where the walls

not only keep out

but carry every conversation.

in such a cryptic void

a spark is gleaned,

a firefly wisp of an epiphany :

we are not separate

you and I

        city and fly

        burrow and groundhog

        dam and ******


we are unread books in dark rooms

waiting for the absolute truth

we find

in one another

to be known

to be seen


as we recite the past horrors

of loud pains

from a city that strips us numb

our pages open like Window panes

ajar...


no matter how ugly the chapters

we will have known

joy being

held within your hands

the story with you

is also mine /

we are

north & southern

swamp & willow

breath

sultry kiss  

Arriving,

humidity on skin

Sweat the nights awake

Until we're dusk

And it drains the sinew

of screaming city

Steaming shadows

shattering length wise

On bright carpets made of morning

Green grass and still

our day yet written

new

Our flight is departing now...



once a firefly in a dark room

a simple story

                a night sky full of stories.


each light

our eyes touch



fireflies

in dark rooms...

At times I need
to glance at this

When you go,
I'll think of
all our summers in your smile,

you are so beautiful ...

and as I look ahead
at the times I'll need this
to rout the insufficient days
without you

my eyes will fall on this
thoughtfully
                       A glossy paper memory

You're so perfect ...
                              that smile that's mine
I keep  near & dear

     with me.

*without you.

I make smiles from shattered eyes

cry December's distracting frost

move my soul with hopeful sighs

and pray our devotion is not lost



It is the eve of renewal's glee

gave sad promises to spoon the moon

but in the haste of glass we freeze

pose with strangers who fill our room



sweat bemoans my reaching hand

your eyes are vacant with his lust

he bids the hours by your command

we smoke our feelings into dust



this boy is weak yet worships you

opens darkest gates to breed

now enter light that stirs, confused

my screaming tears unheard,unseen...



i am a wish of hearts refused,

the sound of fallen poetry...