cobwebs yawn at worn out corners
shame will sing my whispers warn
fireflies fade in burning bulbs as
memory-making wings are torn

forever's filthy broken promise
lash the back of wounded past
marooned upon my stepping stone
where lucent limbo never lasts

i’ll ignore the worn out corners
turn my back on fading light
as cobwebbed feathers fight the fall
my patchwork wings intent on flight

you cracked stars
lavished me in  gloaming dust

beneath freckled lashes
through glimmering tips
I adored you
uncontrollably

pledged skies could not hide in your midnight eyes
still your somber head slowly shook

between powder keg’d echoes and dwindling flickers of twilight
I slashed clumsy neon scars
intoxicated

stabbed stars spat
stuttering sparks
searing gift-wrap skin
and shrivelling ribboned lust

so shamefully I cling
to your petrol soaked promises
with tinder ribs
awaiting combustion

but you always knew
I was too dewy
to ignite
and my lungs starve flames

as I gasp
knowing

only you can crack
my star shelled wish

Karla told me to give up art.
You really aren't very good at it, she said,
And suggested I take up drinking full time, instead.

At least with a beer in your hand,
You project a sense of purpose, she said
Even if it's only to empty the glass.

But your poems ramble on forever,
Your short stories always stop in the middle,
Maybe you should combine the two, she suggested
And blew her cigar smoke down the front of my sweater.

We will call them stoems she said and laughed,
And challenged me to a push up contest,
Right there on the dance floor.

I declined, she knew I would,
Then let's dance with our backs to each other, she said,
And defend this art of yours, silly puzzles no one can comprehend.

Your movement to an upper latitude
Has tilted earth a smidgen.  Gravity,
A badly weakened force, reciprocates,
Just strong enough to hold a world in place
But not to stay your drifting. Mountains green,
So far from Tennessee you're orbiting,
While I in place beside my jar, uncorked
And **** near gone, must ride this wobbled wheel.

We must have love suggested now and then,
Believing it exists despite the pain--
A longshot or illusion I suppose,
The fool's lost invocation, Pan's lament,
Come up to something more than harmony
On fractured lines where we invented words,
Then tore them up, a beautiful display
Of broken things like hearts & window panes,
Notes hanging low and bent beneath the sky
We're also told is nothing more than dust.
But I insist it's there, so blue today.

Under the weight
of loneliness
I wear the universe
like a cloak,
pressed around me,  pinned
holding me close in
its wild womb
gathering up the shards
of warm fire laughter
and voices
that weave into bones
rising in chants
pinnacles gently rocking
into a frenzy
of dark lunar dance

and my
inner moon rises
it's spackled lights
like penetrating eyes
wrapping me in its
blanket of
             stars