it isn't snow
it isn't snow
it isn't snow,
but it is so wet,
not the wettest winter yet,
but you can't call this winter,
April showers started in October,
oh we had some sun
oh we had some sun
oh we had fun,
little time $spent$ on the $slopes$
one part of tourism had to cope,

with weather patterns, that
go in seventeen year cycles or fifty one
year bunches, no pulling punches,
but who makes this stuff up?
the drought will follow
water restrictions to swallow,
will there nary a drop of water to drink?

I have a cow bank, white and black sitting
empty
on my desk, by my elbow, waiting to be
filled with, all my savings for a rainy day
spent, for as the saying goes
"save something for a rainy day"
we have had so many rainy days, it is all
spent
cow is bent out of shape, and starving for some
coin of the realm, and the natural order of things,
scrambled,
saw three ducks out of their lake, taking a chance to
take swim in a monster puddle in a Wallmart
parking lot!

Without you, there be nothing,
Even a rabid dog has frothing,

The rainbow has its *** of  gold,
That is storms, mix of hot and cold,

derelict in some of pleasure's duties,
lightning from those eyes refutes,

all, of these,
cure the disease,
riddled man
into the pan
hirsute man
dumped into
a preemptive funeral pyre.

From the sky
forked delight.
See the longboat silhouette.

I will run for her,
she will never know,
win or lose, show
my emotions or deferred,

we are not kin or kindred,
we barely know, of the other,
she has a brother and a father,
and she has two mothers, at least,
                step-sister let's say,

make that three moms, and scores of others,
friends, she is not alone to fight the disease,
no, it is not a charity event my run, it is out in the rain,

to wrestle with emotions,
small rogue waves on an ocean,
Of disgust, with me,
I don't F'ing know her, see?

She lives across the sea where she got
treatment for the first cancer battle,
because "we don't do that type here"
if that is not enough to rattle,
an above average brilliant, pianist,
like her, then I will still run,
because I am sick and I am tired, and sweat and tears
look the same when you run,
in the rain alone, for breast cancer.

night closes in, windows and doors,
closed against the din, dog on all fours,
head on the ground.

seems peaceful, no?

heart beats slowing, mind going, non-stop
like the traffic mowing down plastic bags
blowing and tumbling in the street.

so much unrest, does it show?

not alone but lonely, only words and sounds,
a dog we will call a hound,  misery found
misery loves company.

so ...when are you dropping by?

Feel I need some company, maybe
all that is needed is music, maybe
sounds to lift what lays about

                                                             ....we can do nachos?

this place, rolling under furniture,
dark and ***** dust bunnies
dance for entertainment purposes,

need the address?

was part man part sky

the sky had fallen
chunks as large as
cars and red and black

pain ate at the voice, the
chords that made sound
all fell flat and silent

the fall was stopped by ground
startled eyes open
to look around
and dark-
ness swal-
lowed me like the ocean
does to the drowned


your hands held me and rolled me over
to see if breath was still in me,
and with it said your name

and the chill that
overcame me
was from the
cold side
of the
pillow
eyes opened on my, half empty bed

Mint tea is not for
every body, but it is
what is before me

working dirt, like it is easy
container garden on a balcony
planting so soon
to the tune of "No Frost Tonight"

except in the reception

of the signal of working
with dirt, nothing more
wholesome to measure
worth, there's only room
for one in the ***, me
or the dirt,

the perfect camoflage
to lay about the outdoor spaces
hiding in the open, hoping
what is buried there
is all of the past
and its many faces

She points at the door, by raising her voice not her arm,
Items scattered on the floor, no longer familiar, lost their charm,
He knew it mattered not, lips would move in the frosty air,
Anything he said would be held against him.
The air grew colder between them.

He put on his coat, the room temperature dropped already more
His hands jingled with the keys, keeping just the ones for his store,
She turned away as he hefted the two heavy bags she had packed,
She said her lawyer would call, he said "I'll be back", voice cracked
" If there is anything ..."

Not a sound
Not a noise
He closed the door
behind him
breathing fresh air
for the first time
And just stood there.
They had no kids, no pets, each a car.
The door open behind him and she said,
"How did it feel this time,
Remember it is your exit strategy
and one time, this door will stay closed and locked."

He began to walk away.

Physician's are able
accord-
ing to some dictum,
Themselves "Heal"
at command, even
with their own head
and ******,
One.

As for intellectual property,
you have none, of either

except that which you steal from us,
sorry I can't blame your parents, you fool,
Here is to hoping your teacher sees through
you...

whether or not you are in school, all this proves is
that you are a tool eaten through with rust, do to
lack of use, bet if you workout, steroids are your "juice"

and if you do it to get attention, you have a
penchant as one previous plagiarist said,
he just "wanted to see if all the poems, written got read"

and if it is to brag to some girl, whose feet you are not
worthy to look up even it they are at toad height,
it is lights out goodnight and no chance to succeed,

so let us hope you leave, because if this is mockery, callin,'
matters not, you missed the punchline, because I don't joke.

the wind she plays dangerously with me,
she picks up leaves and chucks them, hardly
missing my vulnerability,

but just then, she softens her voices
leaving me tense, listening and with no choices,
walking is too far while waiting for the next furry,

oh the turbulence of Spring brings up
the dead leaves of Winter to over-fill my cup
with worry, some woe, some wanted need, to go

and yet you don't know her beauty-in-this-Poetry, it does not show,
and I know not where, to find The Source as such.

relationship
precious, trust
intimate, daily, modelled
Mother and Daughter, first to sacrifice
life, flesh, protects
eternal, hope
love

father
to the sons in
short a legacy of
stubborn racism disavowed left
behind

clear sky cold  descending,
scrambled
mind like an egg, impending
communications
signal so lost, on depending,
a present frequency
that can carry the weighty
scale
of injustice pales to the moonlit
verse read
of a Shakespearean tragedy
peppered
and salted
to taste
no waste
well not yet, clearly
as the
past is
tense
and the Twain shall never meet,
Mark my words

as far as frontiers go, there is the mind, the oceans and
there is space,
as far as points on a compass, there are four, then eight
and there are sixteen,

Of three hundred and sixty.  On Earth.

Take your compass to the ocean deep,
leave it there and let the pressure creep
inside for if the needle points right
it will be a miracle, a crushing miracle.

Antares.  The first time heard I this name
it was on the self-same Star Trek.  Logic
escapes me right now, for logic escaped
us all, when he left.

Antares. A bottle of Shiraz from Chile,
would you raise a glass of anything tonight
and wish one another to "live long and
prosper"

Antares.  Fill a portion of space, look close
no, you won't see his face, nor even the
face of God.  Some mysteries still need
logic to solve. Even through a four finger "V"

Antares.  Meet me there bring your glass
and a telescope, a star chart and the dvd
pack of every episode, we will set the
table and a place for every crew member
                                              and remember
to leave one for the science officer, Spock.

Turn the lights low and with
the remote control just hit play
and stare out to space, sublime
one final frontier, one final time.

all the animals alive breath air,
their bodies do as ours
exchange
bad air for, good air and a want,
to be on the plus side
of the equation
all the humans living and alive
breath their share of air,
warm bodied pulses
staking a claim on the status quo
physically to stay alive,
stewards  of the blue marble ship
surrounded by a vulnerable
bubble, trapping, producing
pure air
there is no quota all deserve a fair
share, so it will be with life,
all night and all day
greed takes it away, suffocates
freedom unless there is a fight,
To survive
all night and all day,
Keep fighting, for air
Keep peace in your heart,
Keep love on your tongue,
Tasted and spoken,
all night and all day.

Pointed
green breaking
ground, with no noise,
A blade
disguised as a leaf
commands choic-
est rays, from the February sun,
the chill is
colder inside these walls,
than on the streets.

Bubble wrap
only does so much,
for the dreams enclosed
for their own protection,
but the grass the gardener aerated
flowered from bulbs long fogotten
and he mowed them down
unsure if flowers,
that bloom in February, grow enough to own,

space and purchase their hold,
for Spring to bring summer's fall.

(Audaci Favet Fortuna)
sum
  are
     won,
sum
   are
                    earned,
         some are,
funny, some
                  are burned
and the smoke is moved
heaven-
                                       ward, with open hopeful hands,
cupping the wind,
                           like wings...
                                                        ­ Sending the
                                                      remnant­ wishes
home giving
feet to dreams.
                                                    Sums lost, some cost
                                   lives of the unfortunate,
inhale the wisp on the wind,
   to guide, a way from the ashes,
and hot coals heaped on the heads of the guilty, inspiration from any source better not back an unlucky horse, a trifecta;
      there is no handle on reality, there is no night dreams that succeed once exposed to the light of day traitor trials, and you think that once
you get on your knees to pray you will be stuck and stay that way, you your voice to the heavens, will be invisible smoke, a clear cold thermo-          cline,
that there is no help there; but you'd be wrong; the choice you chose before you burnt your fortunes, fortune which favours the bold, a silent tattoo, not a noise until the needle hits a nerve.