in the old garden
moonlight on the stone statue
head moves as you pass

Clifford was having a tough year
money was tight, couldn't get in the clear

by the time it was autumn
he'd reached rock bottom

nowhere else to turn
and nothing left to learn

he decided to consult
a man of the occult

who sent him on a quest
to help him manifest

the riches he desired
but it all backfired

now there's demons in control
asking for his soul

all because he messed up the spell
and opened up a back door to Hell

the vampire hunter and his son
were like "lone wolf and cub"
if you know about that one

well they were always together
battling the undead
through all types of weather

then one fateful eve
they could not help but perceive
the shining blood moon meant war
they were not naive

outnumbered they were
and survival wasn't assured
but they battled and brawled
until it all was a blur

but when the smoke cleared
it was not as they'd feared
for all the fanged beasts
had been successfully speared

the hunter then turned to his boy -
victory! they both were about to enjoy
but the hunter saw something that made him a wreck
two tiny red holes in his child's perfect neck

for his son had been bitten
and so it was written
this would be his final dawn -
he was incurably stricken

fate was something they could not ignore
so they waited until the dark was no more
he vowed to always remember his son's final night
as they walked, hand in hand, into the sunlight

she wanted a new face
because everything in the mirror
looked completely out of place

everyone told her she was so lovely
but despite all of that
she wanted to be just a little less ugly

the doctor said, "your visage, i can improve!"
so he gave her a mask
that she could not ever remove

he rode deeper into the desert, his
tongue dustier than his boots.  the thirsty
noonday sun siphoned the last drops of sweat
from the back of his blazing, blistered neck.
the horse staggered.  he knew he was just dead-
weight in the saddle and there was nothing
but sand.  mounds, bluffs, ridges of pale yellow.
time passed.  passed?  but the savage sun was still.

then

she appeared on the dune in silk.  blue.  a
cornflower blue that rippled against her
body.  he closed his eyes and thought of the
rolling fields of breeze-ruffled, dotted blue
back home
he saw himself riding ahead and then
he was there.  off his horse at the foot of
the dune, and she descended.  her eyes were
the same blue as her dress and her lips, red
lips, were parted and he could see her hips
move like liquid through the silk.  swish. swish.  as
she came closer her long dark hair brushed her
shoulders.  swish. swish.  and then she was there and
she pulled him into her breast and he breathed
in and it smelled like the wildflowers
back home
and the silk felt cool and he wanted to
drink it from her body and she drew him
down onto the sand and it wasn't hot
and he began to run his cracked hands up
her thighs and she sighed and he felt it on
his face like a spring gust from the green hills
back home.

then

the federales found him three feet from
the edge of the oasis.  face down, arm
outstretched over a patch of grass.  water,
like a mirror to the sky, lapping his
chafed fingertips.

no one seems to understand!
human knowledge, i just want to expand
i'm only trying to be of service
there's really no need to be that nervous
try my delicious potions
or my very, very soft lotions
and you'll be helping me on my quest
to benefit all! truly it's for the best!
lie there quiet now, it won't hurt a bit
you're helping humanity
so i'm sure you're ok with it!

i met a girl in the grocery store parking lot
i could tell she liked me an awful lot
i felt like a real winner
when she invited me for dinner
but now my toes are boiling in her ***

chili cheese dogs, root beer at the drive-in
spot. the place with the orange roof. then we
cruise the quiet downtown as the sun drops
low and gleams from behind the buildings. it
winks through the trees as we roll into the
country.  windows down, midwest summer air
pouring in as we pass under a gray
cloud.  i feel a cool prickle on my arm.
a song on the radio drifts away.
whipping twilight wind.  rain falls like glitter
through the waning gold on the horizon.

a desert wind blows over waves of sand,
carving new shapes and shadows.  and you don't
look at me with the same eyes anymore.

a brand new ceiling fan was installed in
my bedroom with an apartment upgrade
and as its hum whispers me to sleep, i
wonder if my dreams drift up and get pushed
around the room and out the slightly cracked
window and carried by the summer night
breeze into another open window,
only to melt inside the sleeping brain
of someone else, filling it with faces
and places otherwise unknown to them.
and then i wondered if my fan pulls dreams
in the cracked window, so i pushed it closed.

a sip of red wine
at the start of the evening
pastels streak the sky

jutting twilight clouds
rest low on the horizon
like pink-tipped mountains

i am a strand
a single strand
a single strand of soul
that reaches deep into the earth
and out into space
a single golden strand
growing to infinity
long after the body is left

stranded

swan's wake
ripples
rusty leaves bob

gust in the hollow
february breath
snatched

the sound of a distant hymn sails to me
and brushes my ears, weaving between a
rush of wind at my back and a splash of
stream at my feet.  it's late afternoon and
the sun is long, a sprawl of passionate
gold sheltering the ripples of grass.  i
don't know where the church is.  i can't see it
from here but maybe it is a small white
one with fresh paint shaded by a giant
oak that adorns the roof in red and brown
as the light of summer fades into fall.

rain bolts beat the hood.
your look.  sodium yellow.
this street runs downstream.

if emotions are music, then the mind
is the instrument we learn to play.  we
get better with practice, but every now
and then we hit a false note, and hope that
the audience has the heart to forgive.

a moment.  wordless.
lake ripples.  pastel sunrise.
ashes drift.  goodbye.

he woke up, put on his mask and costume,
and left for the halloween party.  it's
very big, you see.  everyone is there.
every single day.  no one misses it.

empty bar.  silence.
hot sake.  frosted window.
snow in hokkaido.

she wore red for him because it was his
favorite color and she wondered if
he ever really noticed.  like, really
noticed.  the tight dresses, silk slips, even
stockings and bras.  that special shade of red.
not candy, crimson or cardinal.  it
was that unique hue.  or tint.  of blood.

dead leaves in the pool
half-floating crumples of rust
waving, waving, wav-

there was no full moon tonight. clouds covered
the stars and the only thing she could see
through the back door window was her own pale
reflection.  the red lipstick she wore looked
smudged in the contours of the glass. her son
was sound asleep upstairs and her husband
wasn't home yet. she was hungry and thought
she would sneak out for a bite.  it would be
quick, easy. a perfect dark for hunting.
she could change at will.  who needs a full moon.

twinkling whirl of light
spaghetti straps, satin dress
diamond glitter sweat

what do you want from that woman you want
do you want it all or just some of it
what's beneath all the want; is it a need
maybe it's a need to want and, that's life.

i've fallen under.
my own. spell. i now see. all
that i want. to see.

scattered snow sticking,
a shape forming to my eye,
swan wings on the lawn.

the wind ravaged her
hair out on the moor as she
clutched her ripped green dress

a walk in the dark
reveals the flowers that bloom
underneath the moon

from the nothing place
spontaneous combustion
but was it random?

clean light and sharp air
hills cloaked in brown, gold and rust
autumn in england

the fair queen held her bouquet of white and
pink mums so closely to her heart, the loose
petals clung to her mother's blue dress like
sequins. nature's perfect touch as she saw
mom smile at the back of the school gym. then
she was gone. the crowd watched as tears trickled
over the fair queen's cheeks as she began
to proudly wave. but it wasn't for them.

the familiar creep
of night skeletons in dreams
toward infinity

a "forbidden" fruit
that keeps the doctor away
what a conundrum

turn.  a sweep of curls, piano-key black.
wave me inside with forget-me-not eyes.

the ring didn't fit quite right
but when she told him
it was simply too tight
the light in his eyes got a little less bright

"what do you mean?", he asked
"it's a little uncomfortable", she said
and his face appeared downcast
as if he'd just learned that a loved one had passed

"it's very beautiful, though", sensing his dismay
but then he surprised her
when he spoke urgently, without any delay
"what, exactly, are you trying to say??"

she didn't understand
she was taken aback
by some issue at hand
brought to light by an ill-fitting gold band

"um, just that the ring doesn't fit"
his silence she could feel
deep in her stomach's pit
so with tears in her eyes, "no really, that's it"

"yeah that's it", he exclaimed
and walked away angry
with her left ashamed
and confused for being blamed

a rain began to fall
soon she was soaked
standing there, feeling so small
right in the eye of this sudden squall

then she felt something had gone
so she held her hand up
to inspect the finger it was on
it had slipped off and was somewhere on the lawn

she searched in vain for the ring's reflected shine
but just when she finally gave up
the rain ended, which was clearly a sign
that everything, anyway, was going to be fine.

video stores, coffee shops, birkenstocks,
catherine keener.  i want to live there.

lovers between the rocks
on a remote part of the shore
with sand in their locks
and pain to explore

their skin changes hue
pink and then gold
before they vanish into
night's twinkling threshold

can't say it's something i totally admire
but his propulsive desire
i can't really blame
for so many of us are drawn to the flame

he had a dignified stillness
that communicated confidence
and an air of quiet dominance

but the truth he long denied
for despite his surface pride
he was panicked on the inside

so as he walked to work in the rain
he looked up, and a thought splashed into his brain:
"even the tallest, strongest buildings sway"
and that calmed his soul, at least for the day.

it's a place i've only seen in pictures
a ruddy monument of sand and stone
with bold striations like ancient scriptures;
a history engraved upon a colossal throne.

summer ghosts roam the islands
floating through flesh and bone
winter ghosts haunt the highlands
where lonely travelers are never alone

spring ghosts dance in the midlands
leaping through hearts like flame
and autumn ghosts chant in the woodlands
where the song is never the same

her purse had a large gold clasp
sweaty knuckles, she gripped it so tight
keeping the key to her heart's hasp
in a blackened place, away from the light

self-defense was her way of life
that no one else could really know
for emotion is the invisible knife
that can cut with the simplest "Hello".

clicking tap shoe echoes
through a hall of mirrored stages
a million miles of sold out shows
fill his worn out pages

the book is near complete
the curtain is descending
his ears know no defeat
for the applause goes on, unending.

face ripples in watery reflection
straining to see the bottom
i crouch for further inspection
and vanish into the colors of autumn

baby owl faces.
next world of forgotten air.
timepiece creatures work.

gratitude montage
crisis jesters love to death
passage of legend

honest expressions
that come from our one, true self
make us our own art

nothing like an unexpected embrace,
a gift of surprise affection, to teach
you how to embrace the unexpected