January,
rare
cross hatched
jet
conrtrails
inseminate
this receptive Carolina sun,
Emblazing this mountain azure sky,
framming Appalachian
repeat
peaks ,
terrace stone floors,
and hardwood grandeur.

Where does love reside?
Some say heart,
some say head.
But when love curls your toes,
and makes your hair hurt.
Leaves one to wonder
is love bounded
like a bowl of steaming broth,
or a marrix force field
of amorous flux?

Let us go ewe and I
When with bleating out against the sky
Like patent leather renowned in fable,
Let us go, though uncertain quartered feats,
The mutton retreats
Of restless nights in fun house hotels
And raw dust l'enfant motels:
Bleats that bellow like hideous ungulates
In unheated tents
To bleed you to an ouvre question ...
Oh, go ahead and ask, " Feel my ***?"
Let us go us two misfits.
...

*Apologies to T.S. Elliot

T'is the season,
pigeons fare on handouts,
the homeless sell papers
that no one reads,
Mexicans wage a drug war
around about Juarez,
the Chinese run their factories
on foreign waste,
North Korean bunglers
roar 'n reign,
while South Koreans fawn and feign,
the Russians fine tune
their vanishing democracy,
Europe is all a plunder,
Greece, Ireland, Italy, Spain,
Bailed out ***** bankers
bailing bundles of bullock,
they securities and sell,
Retirement fund managers can't buy enough.
The US is on overdrive,
hot color alerts,
underwear bombers everywhere lurk,
every life is precious
when it serves our needs,
at the airports,
*** tourists smile with glee,
looking forward to having their packages ******,
Oh, to be a Belizian, or maybe Swiss,
and be able to say "cheese" to all of this.

The propane man came today.
He checked the system for leaks.
Adjusted the pilots
and checked the level of the above ground tank.
Autumn now cheeks winter
as does my life estate.

I look to you to be a courtesan,
and not just in the bedroom arts,
there is great depth in this craft and calling,
how to conduct the delicate tête à tête,
stirring envy without rancor,
there is politics to master,
who is in and who is out,
and whose nose grows longer with every joust 'n bout,
the arts, must of course be mastered,
music, poetry, and painting
you must teach yourself beyond the basics
while leaving it to those that profess it their profession,
and there is the necessity of fashion
in polite manners, dress, and current bob 'n coif
so all eyes will rise when down the stairs you descend,
and then there's men,
study me, my dear, and to them, "amen."

This is a quick note
informing you that I
have enrolled
in "your geography 101."
I look forward to exploring
you from sea to shining sea,
your fruited plains,
your mountain tops,
your golden fields of sunlit grain,
your divided highways, causeways,
and often spread a luscious lunch upon the apron of your back roads.
For extra credit
I plan a thesis on your deltas,
spelunk your caves for glistening jewels,
swim your lachrimal lakes,
and pray that you keep me after school.

when you close your eyes,
and draw in your next breath,
know that I to breathe,
and that we do so in unison...

Welcome to Cloud Corp.,
We're in the air,
We're everywhere,
24/7/365 plus leaps.
No need to yellow your walking fingers
To reach out and touch someone.
We're everywhere,
Ethernet, WiFi, bluetooth.
We're behind the scenes,
We are the scene,
Promising that we're never mean,
Just ramping up your thought-put,
Instantaneously as we speak,
Googo-hoo,
twit-face,
Sky-bay,
Amazonia with free ship,
Making it too **** simple
To Lean back and Digg your Drudge.

Waisted daze and wasted tights
I have lifted you fair behind,
For you do belong to me,
Tho the cart belongs to someone else.

Why should I keep rubbing you
When I know I've made you blue,
And why should I rekindle flames
when you're to blame
for making me so huge?

Don't eschew me through the haze
Remember that you called me "Hefty"
I was your one and only,
My fair Dove Bar.

Why should I keep rubbing you
When I know I've made you blue,
And why should I rekindle flames
when you're to blame
for making me so huge?

* apologies to Freddy Fender

This morning's dew point,
Lower than inside air,
Silver gray condensate,
Shades window glare.
Like a night beat cop
Patrolling lover's park,
Fogged windows beacon passions' pant,
Sync-ed heaves chug parallel tracks,
Engine-caboose lurch to subsiding sighs.

Languid lapping waves,
Here a mud stuck pier,
The distant hills have failed again
To halt a falling flare.

Would that you and I
be spiritual dervish
whirling centric
forever heart to heart,
as if two slow spinng tops
were capable of occupying
the same soul centered spot.

I'm a divided island.
Cleaved by a a wide sea.
My two halves communicate by note in bottles...
But the currents are inauspicious,
No word arrives from either shore,
Nonetheless the split isles persist,
"Legs, good morning,
Let's get out of bed."
"Head, we've got to **** and **** down here,
Direct us to a toilet and be quick."
Thus said,
More unread flotsom
Is added to this tangled gyre.

You raised the bar, Darlin'
on wholesale love.

You're such a pretty cat, me Darlin'
but you **** doves!

You're such a pretty cat, Darlin'
but you **** doves!

You raised the bar, Darlin'
on wholesale love.

I'm just a pretty boy, my Darlin'
here to implore your love.

I'm just a pretty boy, my Darlin'
but you **** doves,
or was that rabbits?
====

* No animals were harmed in the writing of these lyrics, but regrettably, a few injuries did occur at a subsequent recording session.

Litter
scratch,
  rustle-lated
Un-natural boxed
  cat ****
Cheshired
   grinned
With natural pride
  of being.

The city's office canyons,
all but deserted
this snow laced Christmas day,
as if a pesticide had been sprayed
during the homing hour,
only to learn one day later
that it works best on people.

Every Walmart becomes a Woolworth,
Every Everest a **** hill,
Every ocean a vapor trail,
Every love reverts to ground,
And so it goes round and round.

The chief
at the top of the test pattern,
always black 'n white,
facing left to right,
encircled
then squared
and circled again
at each corner quadrant,
with radiating strobe lines
for adjusting
vertical then horizontal,
our fledgling video message
that now nascently probes
the Universe for intelligent life!

If ennui were pie,
we had a good slice of it
in the wee dark
waiting for the last
homing pigeons to arrive
with the latest PR from Jupiter
and how it's the planetary Hoover,
except on occasions
it misses a flot,
and a helluva lot of dinosaurs are vaporized.

The rivers
          that oxbow
             slither
    down the Cumberland drain
        in May
                 SWOLE
M-E-A-N------F-a-t-----P--R--E--G--N--A--N--T,
         hungry pregnant,
walking the floor & opening the fridge pregnant,
drown your own mother for a nosh pregnant,
    cantankerously mad pregnant,
flowing from car to car, truck to truck and house to house,
   through crawl space, doors, and windows,
down halls, laddering stairs, licking banisters, cresting attics,
    feeding, feeding, feeding, feeding
on the stacked labor of years and years,
feeding, feeding, feeding
on unbelieving minds and dumb stares,
feeding, feeding, feeding,
     on "We've lost everything",
"Oh, my God."s
    and tears.

Made me smirk,
throughout this day,
you with your iPad,
me, a converted Underwood,
text-ing through this curtained medium,
to wrest, impress, express,
probing for that come hither glance,
of which the very promise does so entrance.

Similes are weak
like a rusted link in a chain,
stronger with authority, the metaphor,
that hammers iron into maille.

The double chamber,
the grit,
the granular source
and collective pit
of one's corporeal time
accelerating
each instant
through
that check valve
of
now/then,
.
.
.
that
drop
zone
below
the present tense.

to grow beyond swagger
to sort pain from wager

to explore canyons that mislead you
to collect a duffel of dots
                                             and permit them
                                                                ­              to connect to...?

A chimera ground
of profound sadness
enframes a deep field of arabesque red
split in two,
as Salomon would,
by a thick bleeding bar of black 'n blue remorse.

I'm a deconstruction in the making,
Asymptotically crested,
having had a stellar rocket ride,
I've experienceed a moment or two
of defeating gravity,
but now only too aware
the inescapable trajectory
that is the common fate
of all living things.

Back in the 6th grade,
your name was Morrisette.
It must have been 11:00 A.M.
sunlight rayed into the class south-south-east,
klegging through your white blouse.
My eyes could only see your brassiered back.
I prayed to God the nun wouldn't call on me
and make me stand.

muffler exhaust pipe,
post catalytic breath,
ten F 'n above.

I heard you were serving cookies.
We both know i'm a ginger snap.
Know you have a thing for coconut,
but by no means are you a ****.
I was thinking Dutch Bokkenpootjes,
but when transcribed to Goat Feet - just won't due.
Ice cookie would bring ill fame,
Meringue too light,
Lemon curd too sour,
Oat meal too hardy,
I'm thinking chocolate reflecting your darker moods.
I think I have it!
Mint liqueur double chocolate.
Now, do I have your permission to eat you up?

Belching choo choo white,
Vapor clouds, shadow-skud
This Appalachian range.

Gout tongued,
Mind numb,
Van Gogh eared,
Vanity blind,
Tooo many I's,
Not enough eyes.
Angst lip deep
In this guano cave
That vibrates
With unrequited
LUV cantos .

The all faith popes were flaming atheists,
all two thousand leagues of stacked sea,
sending out their ******* flotillas
on carillon arks stacked ten tiers deep with homing doves,
tithe teething continents of dithering dullards,
the poor mouthed succulent souls
that have so, so
over crowded a once peaceful heaven
to render this one blue ball a hell on earth.

Hungry eyes are servants to the mind,
and the mind a hollow belly to a caverned beast,
and the beast goat horns the shoulders,
forward, forward in arched knots,
vainly shielding the heart,
and the heart squeezing its tortured eardrums
so as to silence the wailed coveting, the coveting, the coveting...

My love,
my sweet delirium,
my dopamine flower,
my nocturnal obsession,
my daylight thought procession,
how do I bare a split second of your truancy?
Your hair, your skin, your eyes, your spike heels, your leggy fluency,
are but a little tittle tally of your unnerving inventory :-)

I couldn't make up
          my mind today,
        so
    instead of asking for a perm,
           I ordered an imaginary tat
                      that wraps around
           my arm
      extolling
your
        character
                and
                    virtue.

I send you a white dove, my love,
in bits 'n bytes, not very romantic,
though when carefully reconstructed
a key to liberate thy chastity, I'm unrepentant.

Redtail hawk, pigeon,
raptor, prey, blood spill, city walk,
pigeon flew away!

There are a plethora
of Snowy Owls this year.
Their food source,
Arctic lemmings
were likewise in abundance.
Cause and effect
ripple outward as
quantum particle waves
require observation
to lock a path in time and place.

This night
my mind is a homing pigeon eager to vector notes
to and from a distant
unmet,
Unconsummated
love.
It's the message content
I struggle.
Is it love when your words fillet me open
and render me carrion
in my own dreams?

Mornings,
The blessed shroud of sleep lifts,
Ones usesless limbs
Have filled in the nocturn hours with mercury,
Not swift Olympian Mercury,
But the toxic fluid metal
That nearly weighs the same as lead.
A new day,
A new day
Weighs in
Without volitional choice.

So enjoined,
Across from me,
Two lovers,
recent college graduates,
seeking first career employment,
Conjoined, before interest,
One hundred and eighteen thousand dollars of student loan debt,
One twenty-nine year old Honda
Holding all their stuff
On a side street where we eat
I picking up the check, pray,
"God help them,
God help our nation."

Now I feel remorse
having besmirched this clean page
with these very words.

Supporting experience
this communal thread
that here
and where you are
knits our beaded thoughts
into a secular rosary
that we with pleasure
interworry.

Jesus is said to have turned water into wine.
Today my urologist turned my favorite cordial, red wine
into water, and only five eight once glasses at that!
TKed, Syrah, Syrah.
Christ! where's Jesus when you need him?

let dimension equal n;
where n is infinite,
plus one,
no matter.

Round and round and round,
the spin, the rotation of it all.
Once I believed the prayer wheel
was an instrument for kinetic dopes.
I was western yoked,
and blind behind my dark wisdom glasses,
to see the wise homage made
by an intentional turn
to the way of all things.

If I had but one unqualified wish
I'd wish for N more,
and, of course, my dear,
I would split the lot with you.
Now the question,
would your first wish
make me your handsome prince,
an apple picker in the orchard of your eye,
or would you use one to magic wand  
a village stud to come and clear your snowy drive?

On a sepia afternoon,
we'll meet in a rented room,
I'll have cleared my schedule.
And you, my sole to do.