Now it's hibernating time
which is fine
I'm so tired I could sleep
on my feet
standing up
like Maggie's happy horse

conquer me
with your words,
for I am a poet
     of soul
my mind as open
as my spread thighs
my lotus aching
to welcome
your sword of gold
Unsheathe.
Come close.

until there is no light
between us
for inside grows
a luminance,
             ever-burning
as sharp as ghost pepper
as soothing as
spilt milk
on petalsilk skin
as nourishing as
the stillness
of secret ponds
let us spin our tongues
into lava flowers
as we call forth courage
from the sunken
mists
   of
       time

.
.
It's 3 A.M. and the air is
getting thin
and all the patrons have gone on to meet their daily end

Ken the bartender is stocking beer for the weekend now is near

You know it as a rite , you call it Saturday night

Ray comes in and unslings his axe
And goes through his numerous picks

Turns the amps on and
lights a *** with a yellow Bic

Then thumps the microphone
to see if on
before he hits a lick

He's getting ready for Saturday night when everyone gets on thick

There is cocktail Mary
coming in
she sits right down and
yells at Ken ,
"Make it a tonic and gin!"

Ken nods and fills a glass
cursing beneath his breath
"I swear gin will be her death."

He loves and hates Saturday night ,
but all good things
have there bite

Ray hits a hard chord
Makes it wail in pain
Then he turns to the amp and adjusts the gain

Then one more stroke
pops a string
he without a word
changes out the thing

Then he let's lose
Like an Ace on duce
and my how he does his thing

Staying steady ,
Getting ready ,
For the magic
known as Saturday night