she was wild,
she wanted to swim,
and she screamed,
because thats how she dived,
thats how she talked,
it was exquisite,
it was wild,
she had skin,
she had slime,
i had skin,
was it hair,
or was it fur,
i was hers,
and she was wild

i just wanted to kiss her.

Mine eyes seek the treasure of peace to behold

It's Thor, God of war

That your arms enfold.

Symphonies are written in honour of peace

As well as war.

You can stop fighting now

Just stop.

Accept the deliverance of olive branches

And let your rage subside

Gently as the falling of dove feathers.

Your enemies have died

Yet you battle on

With nights spent alone

Excluding all

Except the tempest in your mind.

Alas until you follow the way of peace

The storm you hold will abide, not cease

And as Tolstoy said

"The two most powerful warriors

  Are patience and time"

Each of which you'll find

Are mine.

Route 84 would not lend me
the light of a star last night
Radio blazing at 75 mph
nonsense noise to chew gum by
Crackling political commentary
Static of distance and thick clouds
Invisible mountains blocking
Memories seeping through the cracks
coating the music in a film
I rub my eyes
watch myself punch alert buttons
But it’s the angels’ jukebox tonight

Roll down the window
Watch the heat escape

Summer again

I am building a castle of ancient stones
pulverized by relentless tides
Dragged across maps by mastodons
and mammoth glaciers
The scouring hiss
the ocean sighs
Time has lulled these smoothly
rolling them in the softest hands of sand
and gels of life’s comings and goings
tenderly tumbling
in the millionth moonrise—
Time deposits them here
wet and glistening

For the girl with the plaid two-piece to gather
Shoulders sun-burnt barely say
one week only,
one week of the fifty two
“It’s the time of the season…”
and daddies on the beach are watching….

She has chosen yet another stone
And the castle continues—
in oblivion to all but her legend…

     The queen will be safe here
     from the rabble
     The disgraced Tristan will surely seek her
     Among these lofty cliffs
     Between the raging circuit of the tide
     Here winds forbid the vengeful mob
     Here lovers learn
     the debt of love’s bad timing
     “Drink ye all of it!”
     --the potion that assigns our sorrow….
     She will not sleep—
     while I chew this gum--  GUM?

Roll down the window!

Angels escape with the heat
Waking me with the brush of their wings

As that eighteen-wheeler hugs my flank
And leans on the horn
Lights flashing
Rude rumbling under right tires
Tantrum of snow
In the draft of mass and velocity

…and the angels?
They’ve chosen another good one!
They must’ve liked the 80’s
Their wings slapping the windshield madly  
Their hands steady the wheel