After many near misses
sweet thunderbolt kisses
explode upon my lips
heady molten sips
which burn me
turn me to matchwood
incendiary splinters
ashes of desire
a willing victim of flame and fire

In 1992 a major storm tore
the rented beach finger,

ten foot whitecaps yawning
in a horizon of clenched tar.

I walked with mom
through clews of wind

& saw conches strewn
on down the dying strand:

bleached comma fragments
among the bolting towel skins.

The sea was standing there
on foaming legs, fully awake now,

green glass tongues hissing,
a death myth of muscle,

smiles and grimaces
& lolls and swallows,

all at once, synchronous.
More alive than any god.

The external spills in.
A visage of the outside materializes on my reflective psyche.
And through the mirror,
The external reaches into me and forces me to tremble
And wail in unison with it.

Could I bend and manipulate the projected image?
Could I make it beautiful and weak
So that it cannot take hold of me and exploit this marionette body?
Or should I simply sever my strings?
So the impression cannot control me,
But only beg for my compliance.

And what if my will aligns with that of the terrible specter's?
I fear I may be too willing
To do the harm it bids me.

cows and horses
the dog barking at the tv
no westerns tonight...

the DEA at my door
want to know if i can point them
in the right direction??? ...

a tip jar at the liquor store
and the mother- in -law is moving in...

a passing fire truck with someone
in a Mickey Mouse costume waving


AND YOU CALL!!!