Two dolls are walking with strings pulling them up, from a puppeteer that’s visible but outrageously anonymous. They are brothers and lovers and the world winds up around their feet daily. They have traveled this path as often as angels take flight. There’s glamour in being one of the deceased, but theydon’t know that yet.

“What’s mysterious about morning anymore?” they wonder as they trap the night in their eyes. Every star is swept to sleep with wishes and the world expands on their words. it’s before and it is after, but they don’t know that yet either. There’s a version of the truth to spark the start of tomorrow instead of the old lie of simple light. When your dreams dissipate in hazes they don’t just fade, they go off to entertain the maker. There’s a spider with eyes like crystal, purple cracked and glistening, in fragments like glass off-kilter to beams of lasers. Jewel toned rainbows rain from his steps and he dances across whatever is left of last night. Crepe paper demons scatter to the storm drains and drink of drowning sorrows, silk spun fairy men (quite transparent) stare through morning mirrors to collect the evening’s dramas, dew drop star stuff coagulates and washes phantoms out of flowers.  before this moment the lovers’ journey was eternal. until one doll looks left. his brother’s not in step and the rhythm can’t be kept. The first sign of stagnation is, of course, the yawn. Stain orange smear, violet lined and wild, the artist’s thumb caught up and jagged paths fly unfettered across it all. The color known as dawn dusts the frightened dolls. Canvas pale skin dipped in daybreak. “Who has broken forever?” they cry inside.


When the crack in millennia spills morning, they are known. then they know one another and their stride splits further and they scream at the rendering. Words are born of their agony and the first words are their names. Tsuki and Taiyo.

Taiyo is the father and Tsuki the mother of the light that is the progenitor of all.
“can you stay with me?” Tsuki conceives want and from it all suffering.
“I cannot.” Taiyo, the giver, the first king, powerless as all man thereafter.
“is it tomorrow?” ... the salty seas form in Tsuki’s eyes..
“they’ll never know it was you.” Taiyo holds his brother’s hands out to his sides and his shadow slips away and makes the dark.




the should-haves silence them but their trembling buckles the singular road. quakes open the star field and rivers of auroras blind the idle lord. oneness is lost and the immortality of always is severed by a
cauterizing strike of endless grief.


they’ll make it as magnificent as they can. for each other. but they’ll never be the same.

Of course I break and sway and as they say die another day a probable game to play when they take your soul away….before, on the porch, he stood and screamed remorse, it’s worse than the rocking horse tipping back and forth..   a scolding soldier .. the things your mother told ya and all the lethal force drawn upon your door.   Bastions of righteous minions lay siege to your dominion and force all of your children into begging for this eden until they don’t remember until you can forgive her they swallow up forever in minutes ever after in basic sick diversions in lieu of subtle passions in lieu of real creation .. like a bargainer’s mitigation .. bask and behold unmask and resolve where were the wonders this year oh, forgotten amidst the fear.  Where were the wages of war .. at every child’s door accuse me of rebellion and list my name for here is horror and I am shame ..

the time eater

who is a friend of mine

climbs into courtyards of giants on twine

on a limb of the future

a creature divine

the time eater tips the grim reaper with gold

a moment, three winks, tick-tocking untold

the eater of ages rocks up on his toes

time eater flying, the time eater runs

a second, a twinkle, a century gone

his breeze of a coat tail holds eons and all

must follow his lead back over the wall

All religions might well be right
and we should cower in God-fueled fright
but I would rather spend my days
In an atheistic craze
not sinning because that **** is lame
not because I fear the flame
of some post-apocalyptic hell
administered by a ne'er do well
who once was God's holy best
but asked and so's no longer blessed

i don't need authority
to tell me what should be should be
i look at my fellow man
not the bible or quran
it's obvious whats good and bad
and not a power play or fad
don't be a **** and don't sell hate
all will be well (even if you believe in fate)

i have a friend who's frunchy, that's synonymous with crazy...
my sister's philosophy is based on being lazy
my brother's over-logical it leaves him kind of dumb
and i won't even begin to talk about my mom

i would have been attentive, interactive, real and loving
read them fairy tales and discussed instead of shoving
i would have let them grow up being who they were
and only dressed them up as punks until they told me no
i might have cringed a little if they joined the football team
but i'd have went and cheered them on and loved them just the same

i'd have been a super mom. i guess everyone thinks so
i'll get to keep believing it but i'll never really know

When the fairy herd alights
and the phosphor stampede makes day of night
best to watch from afar
and save yourself the battle scar
of their sharp-winged cacophony
more swift than schools of fish at sea

she said sleep seems so sweet.  so please sing me to sleep so i can rest my head on your heartbeat...