The hunter spotted the lovers through the pines
as the sunset splashed orange over their arcing spines.

An abstract sculpture of flesh, a piece of accidental art;
a secret masterpiece that warmed the hunter's heart.

He walked away and thought of his own long lost youth
and how lucky he was to have witnessed a fleeting fragment
    of nature's elegant truth.

Bob thought a therapy of regression
would cure his nasty habit of aggression.

He unearthed many childhood traumas,
repressed memories of unsavory family dramas.

The therapy worked, to some degree.
His demeanor was more pleasant, most would agree.

But he was never sure if it was all true
and changed the reality he once knew.

So one day he could take no more.
He regressed into a puddle on the bathroom floor.

The floating discs from on high
brought a tear to the old man's eye.

He remembered a rhyme
from a long-forgotten time.

"The angels will come,
marching to heaven's drum.

Be ready and look to the skies.
Arise, my son, arise."

A detective married a witch.
In a few years, he wanted a switch.

He slinked and slunk out every night,
and thought he kept his sins out of sight.

But one thing he could not hide from her nose,
the scent of strange perfumes on his clothes.

One night when the hour was late,
she conjured a fitting fate.

She cast a spell.
He fell down in a well.

So it came as no surprise,
no one ever got wise.

For the only man who could solve the case
was lying forever and ever, in a very dark place.

Little Billy's best friend was a tree.
One day his parents had it chopped,
and the pieces were shopped.
So little Billy put rat poison in their tea.

one sunday in the park
i sat across from a woman in white
her head was hidden
beneath a big pale hat

and a dachshund
with a sunshine yellow collar
sat at her feet
brown eyes
droopy and searching
   staring

as i ate
a hot dog with mustard

sunshine yellow

orange umbrella
lying open on the grass

or

sunset
over a green sea

what's behind our eyes these days
is it memories
or dreams
of things yet unseen

what's behind them these days
history, hope, damage and pain
a cluster of neurons
igniting the brain

besieged by screens
with eyes of their own
that record and reflect
all they've been shown

are we any different
have our eyes turned to ice
milky and blank
a clean recording device

what's behind our eyes these days
is anything trapped and want to break free
the answer is very simple
open them and see

glassy black shoes
pinpoint tie
razor keen cuffs
and a sugary smile

he comes clickety-clack
heels eating blacktop
lies on his tongue
licking a black lollipop

one hand in his pocket
ready to make a deal
his eyes sparkle
your soul he can feel

if you want some advice
don't dare shake his hand
he's filling his library
with the hearts of the ******

eyeglasses nestled in the fluffy snow
frosted, with a single crack
bouncing winter sun off my tarnished window
a glint of hidden history from below
it sent me on a journey way, way back

a memory of reflected light
off a tree lined lake where i swam as a child
all day until the moon gave birth to night
and the sky was black with pinholes of white
a remembrance long ago filed

delivered back to me by a frozen emissary
whose lenses are no longer fit for eyes
whose rounded frames are a bit ordinary
but found one final way to be visionary
as a door unlocked by a cold, powdery sunrise

aging lessons
written with chalk, sweat and years
for ageless pupils

snow globes on a shelf
one for every emotion
which one do i shake?

and so it remains:
a child's gift left at the fence
ignored, unopened

i see their faces
from my fortified tower

revolution brews

electronic screens
exploding news violence
tabloid fantasies

plain bar, plain white dress
     turn, turn;  can i see your eyes?
anything but plain

bats in the kitchen
flaming records spin sweet noise
house party chaos

ghosts born from the ash
of our burning silences
haunt us forever

She stood at the edge.  It was winter and
the lake was frozen.  Teenagers skated
in the distance.  They held hands and glided
in circles, laughing.  She wondered how they
missed the cracks.  The giant cracks.  Maybe they
saw them and just didn't care.  She closed her
eyes and breathed in, letting the cold air fill
her lungs.  Blades scraped and voices faded.  She
then opened her eyes and began to shout.

Long table
Tired mouth

I feel your stare
My shoulders hunch

Loud and louder
Snow on the pane

Fumbled wine
Bleeding grip

Cries in the corridor
Wind in the parapet

Judgment knife rises
Your heart slows

Loud and louder
Snow on the pane

Red river
Red river
Red river flow

Streamers
Gold and pink

Puddles and shadows
Lips and necks

Smiles and hips
Angels and fountains

Night slips

The abandoned square
Sleeps

Sand and salt
Cold foam

Wind across the pier
I hear the sea

Floating gold
Blank skin

Electric wound
Air ablaze

Ashes in your eyes
Tears in your hands

The ship disappears
Beyond

sand flows
between my toes

i bury them deep
and lie back

let
the surging surf
close around me

feel
the sun's caress

taste
the salt

breathe

i am new
again

Black dress drags
Through the mist

My hair sticks
My cheeks sag

My hands quiver
My legs groan

Soft eyes
Inside

Dew drops
Stained skin

I miss you forever

Projector rattle
Dusty light

Wallpaper cracks
Fluttering memory

Burning tin
Black timber

A face in the window
Melts

Calm air endures
Scentless

A cracked frame
Broken smiles

The ink runs
Down the alley

Red spills
Into the doorway

I glow

The invisible tattoo
A translucent flame

Rage detonator
Molten eyes

Violence in three steps
Two steps
One

I glow

"Who goes there?"
Cheerless and pitiful

A short cry
Then stillness

*I fade

Jump in
Taste the brine

Art lives
Beyond the wall

Future love songs
Ride the swell

Your makeup runs
In the rain

Back street kisses
Well-rehearsed

Cracked vinyl piles
Like onyx shards
Like impressions
Like fantasies

Water beads
Slide along the grooves

Your spattered lipstick
Your chipped nails

It is cold here

Under the clouds

Zebra static screens
Solo chess

A fallout winter
Quiet ash

Empty cans
Jangle across cement

The image of you
Dissipated

Sealed up
The final request

I am a soldier

I was a soldier

A dream box key
In the captain's desk

The piper's mutiny
A locked door

The lifeboats burn
Orange dots on black velvet

Listing
Listing

Pressure groan
He sits

Door bulge
Spray

In the drawer
In the drawer

Exploding torrent
The dream box opens

as i trudged home
one wintry day
i saw a deck of
playing cards
wilting
in the snow

i took them home
and played them
back to life

that was years ago

now they sit
in a dusty corner
and whisper
never forget

but i do sometimes

the dance hall smelled of chlorine and formaldehyde
as the corpses did the robot
and the music clattered around like
a drunk in the dark

i saw you and wondered why
you ignored me and then I remembered
it was me
who ignored you

then the dead shuffled around
and somebody broke a hip
and you left when I looked away
or because I looked away

but a zombie broke a hip and
who wouldn't look at that

your breath
over my shoulder

your voice
behind my back

these potions
bubble

these colors
run

your touch
whispers

your steps
murmur

these old eyes
can't see you

anymore

tap, click, shuffle

"where are you, sister?"
echoes of the old house

old wood
hard cherry

the staircase unfurls
from the haze

the hallway recedes
out of focus

laughter
pitter-patter

up and down
round the corner

again
and again

white dresses streak
"don't look back, sister"

tap, click, shuffle

the stairs
hold our secrets