Crows feet
creases
lines of least
resistance

you tell me beauty fades,
misleading?

beauty takes us further down
the forest paths, passing dreams
that we
once splashed through and
to timeless glades where
beauty shines through.


In withered vines that once held promise
of the finest wines
time's ceaseless quest?
arresting beauty?

Shoot me
if I'm wrong,
but
doesn't beauty linger on the
flaming fingers of a dying heart?

A part of who we are is to see where we are,
sadly
there are those who never get that far
or get only
as far as the crow flies.

He said his Christmas Eve was good
in his recliner, TV cranked,
drapes closed,

bottle of Nyquil in one hand,
remote control, in the other,

waiting

for NBC News
to end and football
to begin.

Sandwich
no sand
a
tea but not witch

I feel slightly
Rodney
must have that
biopsy

Albert tells me
it's okay.

the wind from the East
could ******* away
not today though because
I'm weighed down by life.

glad of some gravity
who wouldn't be?
shouldering responsibility,
the new me

albeit without the biopsy.

Meanwhile under an
empty sky
emptier people are
passing me by.

I remain
unmoved in
the moving images.

There are rocks
With your finger prints on them

There are places
With the color of your eyes
Burning them down

There are memories
I wanted to last forever

There is pain
In the end of a needle
Just as there is love
In all people

There is a body
With your name
Your finger prints
Your colors
But no you.

(20 minute poetry)

Fill it in Friday
dye it blue,
what does anything
have to do or anyone
have to say,
but
Friday.

send me a test card
hung on a lanyard
or up on the yardarm
where I'm swinging
my bones

Weismuller's
full of something
now
that guy knows how
to swing
but
you're probably too young
to remember him,

Guess again
I'm back on the
underground train
and
it's snowing down here
either that or my eyes
have gone queer

it could be the light
or a trick of the night
looks like snow
though.

Nearly done for the year
eight more hours here
and a beer for a chaser.

Going
but not quite,
Injecting
testosterone
deepening my voice
a tone
heading on home
for Christmas.

Could have been a rockstar up there on choctaw ridge,
tallahatchie bridge, but just a song that flew so long back then.

pen a line and you're flying
or dying for to pen one more,

I could be her with the hair in my face
or me with myself out of place
could pump iron or jump
either way I am flying.

Choctaw was just a bridge too far
and they made a film of that.

Never can be
but always will be,
still we can only try.

buy a sidecar
ride a tramcar
slide your fingers in the jam jar
marmalade tastes great.

A Legal high?
legal to die?
sanctioned.

They sell poppers to boppers
and coppers come calling,
I'm nearly not quite though
falling through light
oh
it's shiny.

It's time we went
the rent's due
and I'm new
at this game.

Food for thought, the school
is torn down, McDonald’s
took its

place, and the old man
living in the corner
house

masturbated on his  front
porch until the police
stopped him

is decades dead, I don’t
remember his name

but the poor as horse meat
children who attended
class with me

I see like clean
glass.

She dug ***** after
***** of soil until
the hole was

long, and deep enough
to cover Brownie’s tan
and white speckled
body;

I was twelve years
old, and Beverly
fourteen.