The creator as we can seeith was extremely bored one day
So he created the humans.....
To giveth him fine amusement....

As those human's still put on
A freakish show!!!!

I am not my flesh
I am the spirit within.

the mind frame is pure
thoughts as white as snow
feelings are vibrant and cured
serenity attains a free flow.

Little soul, little perpetually undressed one,
Do now as I bid you, climb
The shelf-like branches of the spruce tree;
Wait at the top, attentive, like
A sentry or look-out. He will be home soon;
It behooves you to be
Generous. You have not been completely
Perfect either; with your troublesome body
You have done things you shouldn't
Discuss in poems. Therefore
Call out to him over the open water, over the bright
Water
With your dark song, with your grasping,
Unnatural song--passionate,
Like Maria Callas. Who
Wouldn't want you? Whose most demonic appetite
Could you possibly fail to answer? Soon
He will return from wherever he goes in the
Meantime,
Suntanned from his time away, wanting
His grilled chicken. Ah, you must greet him,
You must shake the boughs of the tree
To get his attention,
But carefully, carefully, lest
His beautiful face be marred
By too many falling needles.

she said she fell
for the drunk me -

well, i liked me
that way-better, too

how very sad
- but true

i'd drink again
if i knew i could -
if it would do any good

- to lick her sweat
one drop at a time
all along the jawline

- making her salt mine
one more time.

r ~ 11/15/15

as fragile
as a songbird -

her hands

knotted and spotted
from many winters


november came one last time -
i held her hands in mine - gently

- gently, she flew away
to where songbirds go
when it's cold in the mountains.

r ~ 11/18/14