Just in the nick of time,
before we kissed
our gnarly ***** goodbye,
we got a reprieve
from two fast-movers
screaming above us
in a vertical.

We got explosive
snaps,
crackles
& pops,
such deliverance
from the diesel-smoke skies,
some guys got tears in their eyes.

It was a time of holy reverance,
a cause for celebration,
as we thanked God
for those killer
buzzsaws
bringing
total destruction
on our perimeter.
High fives all around.
Alleluia.

She's a mean spirit
Been that way for a long time
Karma is a *****

It's a quiet sacred place,
deep in the oak hammocks,
way beyond the pine flatlands
& cabbage palms.
There I commune
with the crows
and the crickets.
And at night,
a bullfrog symphony plays.
The mosquitoes,
*****,
and armadillos
come out to play.
It remains sacred,
but is not nearly as quiet.

The sacred ones
spin
circular,
tethered
to the womb
of the Mother,
pierced
forever.

See the sacred clowns
on the edge of tomorrow,
they sip sage tea.

I hear the winds,
I hear the winds
across
the great plains,
blowing
from the four.

They guzzled gallons of tequila,
screamed obscenities
at the rising tides,
saluted the splashed milk
covering the pitchest sky ever.
All was well,
the swelling was magnificent,
such nubile queens.
They scrambled to miss each wave
banging the shore
& I swore they kissed Heaven,
naked like that.
The morning brought Armageddon,
it was a nuclear zone
of sweet bodies.
I never saw such beautiful damage,
nor will I ever forget them either.

L-shaped secrets
can deadly,
especially at night
when the villages
appear empty
& things
seem too quiet.

I wanted to quit,
but I love
the taste of nicotine
on her pretty full lips.
I'm addicted to kissing her
(cigarettes)
now,
de facto.