When turnips sour.
Did they ever start
out so sweet?

From his rib, Eve was made
Genuflecting paralysis
Stuck in half down position
Or is it half up?
Thought I was on the rise
But immobility within reverence
Aslant to benevolence
Is quirky sacred stuff
Might just as well be penitent
For entirety of mankind's mishaps
Women's too
Can't discriminate, ya know
Pleasing it is to discover
A close assimilation to childbirth
My gargantuan *******
Is as close as I can aspire to
Fertility Goddess

Presence finds itself least expected, yet underscored
Anywhen, somewhere, a bus rolls into aurora, at wee hours
Though not on oceans
That's the place where cargo ships do
Together with airplanes, these larger escorting
tempos and times, clock shifts
Pulling sun along with them
in motion intrinsic as sustenance
Workday begins for some pre light
Bakers and bus drivers know this best
Two noble professions perhaps glamorized, perversely
by this poet
but not without recognition of
their elemental indwelling of us all

Badger: (Sniffs and snorts) You, you Sir are on my road. Listen, you I am speaking to you. Who are you? Why is it that you lay on my road? This is my road and you do not belong here. Wake up Sir, or I shall become indignant. What right have you here on my road? I do not take lightly to strangers appearing on my road, in the middle of a night as such. You see, only the stars are out tonight to guide my way. You Sir are an obstacle of alarming disproportion and you indeed do not smell well. In fact I would say, you stink. So if you would kindly remove yourself from these premises, I will not be forced to reckon with you further. (Snort, sniff) Sir, Sir?!

Man: (Waking) Huh? Wha-wha-wha-what? (Shriek, shiver) Uhh!

Badger: Oh for the goodness of ground squirrels. Now this is indeed no such behavior in which I shall tolerate. Take your stinking self off my road before I snarl, and snap upon your nose, a reminder you should never forget.

Man: Oooh. Ahh. I am sorry Mr. Badger, Sir. Please forgive me as I am not well and must have suffered a spell here on your road. I insist Sir, I am not a drunkard or here to cause you harm. It’s just that at times I lose equilibrium, as my brain and nerve endings are not in harmony. I am so sorry to have made such a spectacle of myself, here on your road. If you give me a moment to compose myself, I shall be on my way.

Badger: Oh, I see. Well, this is some fine mess. I do suppose you will need some assistance. Take cover there, over by that tree across the road there, on the other side. I will divert the attention of the bear and mountain lion, as they shall be following up shortly. Now scurry on, or waddle or whatever it is you do.

Man: Thank you kind Sir. Mr. Badger Sir (Shuffles across street.)

Badger: Oh bother, no need for sniveling. Move along.

(Later at dawn, man wakes to lawn sprinkler hosing him down, and an odd recollection.)

Recently we cut a large holly tree down. It had given access to the roof of a mother raccoon, who burrowed into the attic to begat her progeny. It was sad to see that superior glossy leafed beauty go. Full of blistering red berries, it attracted a multitude of feathered friends, who would be spied from a window near where I would rest. Still, the unwelcome problem of a gang of masked furry bandits, meant the holly could no longer stay.

It was no easy task, falling such an old growth. The tree was at least close to the eaves when the home was purchased nearly twenty years ago. Now it had risen well past the peak of the roof. Though with steadfast ingenuity, and agile elbow grease,  down it came in four large sections. Branches would have been perfect for wreaths and garland, should it have been closer to winter. The trunk, at its base, was ten inches in diameter.

Holly wood is a hard wood and would be perfect for sculpting something unique. I ruminated keeping some to dry for this purpose, and it most certainly would have been saved for the fireplace, had we not the intention of moving and the need of keeping things tidy be present.

This all plays in my head, the purposing of things and such. It is not in my nature to waste. However, all the extra effort of putting things in a proper place for future use, cannot be afforded at this crucial time. Oh hell, now I suppose offering it up to Internet scavenging, would be more ecologically sound. Come and take, please help yourself. The Ad appears on Craigslist Free Stuff.

Summer, with rains swelling like a Tolstoy story
of men sent to war, of bravery and cowardice,
of man questioning putting himself in harm's way,
who, what influences your pouring?
Cloud bursts and cracking skies lit by bolts of wonder,
of uncertainty, of suspicion,
do you feel the feeling of self-preservation
or of self-implosion?
Does justice consequently actualize in your humidity,
in your ideology of warm front meets cold front confrontations?
Sizzle summer, then pour.
Make the wheat germ swell and fields flourish
for in some other part of the world,
some other farmer's crops are failing
and this is what leads to war.

I never really speak exactly what's on my mind. Painting inhibitions feels like a higher art. Not on your life, would it be wise to bet, on any prognostication or even divination. Certain regret mars most definitive findings, but I wouldn't wish to make claim to any of those anyhow. It's much easier being misunderstood. Leaves me out of the loop. Hardly, would any wish the full scoop. After all, most of what is said and done, will be forgotten. Likely, never even initially heard. So, leave me no word, of remembrance. I'm fast approaching my own confines of extremity.

Who spins color upon an iris painted?
Was it Sun who singed a purple tainted?
Did clouds weep ink to melancholy petals?
Did its roots sink down to mines of metals?

Who can answer these curious questions?
Should gnomes be known for such confessions?
Are plants determinants within its seed?
Genetics yen crying out for desire, and need

Who could know more a noble, royal thing?
Than an iris whose fringe is yellowed and sings
Compliments to purples, petals up and down
Why all Fairy Kings are wearing these crowns

I sit inside my window
he sits outside my heart
he passed upon the cement
a heart that did not start

They could not bring him back
It seems he never was
there for me some how
but what I had, Twas

sometime ago he left
pain of windowpanes
call out beyond the glass
resonance that feigns

Tribute to his ignorance
mine, just the same
Do recall his beauty
though never gained much fame

It snapped shuttered darkness
left more dead inside
Some may wonder what becomes
of wishes we abandon, and hide

falling from the window
another sees his flight
marks a man forever
consequence so slight

superbly executed fall
and there lie all the parts
mangled broken ******
not one, but two hearts

I see it so plainly
still to very day
my love on pavement
It doesn’t go away

pain of windowpanes
makes no sense to me
cannot grieve today
bones and flesh I see

Please don’t give pity
it is not for what I ask
Just look upon this city
and all its broken glass

Enfranchise worry and tears
go for it, those open floodgates
bottle and market it
sweeten with corn syrup
bittersweet amalgamation
lead poisoned wall
tankard of stern lost eyes
so swollen
cannot drip

Soon faucet will rust
and stagnant death
you have witnessed
will sanctify
any maddened reason why

Resistance to smile
through it
though you know you were blessed
to have loved each and every
Your dearly departed

Leaky toxic brew
Such as this
does no honor

To a life
an ongoing confer of privilege
You still own

So let it be
begin to smile

Again

that awkward laugh
pushed through an explosion

Tears


beauty you recognize
through the pain
You are permitted
this indulgent elixir

As I am, I growl with hunger
As I lust, my musk malodorous
I do, as though the thunder
Confess my will shall so oppress

It’s a drive my eyes are fixed upon
The scampering of the lemmings
My fangs blood and phlegm do don
No intelligence worth condemning

It is life for which I fight
The ***** becomes my prowling
My need to breed a might
Her moon begins my howling

I claw my way through darkness
Scavenging morsels to find
Eyes that perceive a bark lest
Be indicative of my kind

An étagère to hold silly whatnot
A mind adrift in trinkets somewhat
Its bits espied and soon forgot
Knickknack, gimcrack, and all lot

Finding herself so amazed
In menagerie on which she gazed
Simply lost and ever dazed
Novelty toys to which she raised

They dance for her, sparkling trifle
Hoarding gewgaw in which to rifle
A non-creation and mind to stifle
Complete with tiny tower Eiffel

These things to her do bring joy
For loss of hers was little boy
And though this sound ever coy
Replacing boy; nonsensical toy

Toward lower place, holy steps I set
Process, solely to pleasure you
On traverse an atman, to gaiety get

Nor nimble nosedive quantify free
Greater love; comparable, higher
Twinkle, flash, glister this treasury

Wholehearted welfare bid proceed
Serve solicitor, man’s nourishment
Assign an office, your eyes indeed

Devotional candle, clarity in light
Love is not debt, to which subscribed
Gliding pathway bearing orbit’s flight

Still, this I am helpless to choose
Why you here feel, as if sanctity
From every lover, which I did lose

Sparse conclusions, respect to heart
Luminary moment of sudden spark
Accept this love as forgotten art

How is it playing in your head about now? Does it roll the inside circumference, from left ear past eyes to right, following through the back and around to your left again? Shall I whisper it once more, the sentence with which this did not start? Please don't make me repeat myself. By your blush, I know you heard me correctly. It's just how you bite your lip, that is indecipherable, whether you agree or not. Let's not leave this business between us unfinished...

It needs a title.

I think things like~

what if every raindrop was
encapsulated in a wax casing?

and what of all that rain
and all those wax casings?

would the wax coagulate
in some weird way
while coolness of clouds cover?

or when heat of sunshine
broke through, would they what?

turn into sloshy slicks of slippery drippings?

would the water molecules
find their way to each other
to form rivers?

and would the wax bank itself
in coagulated forces of gravity
and magnetism yet to be understood?

what if all the wax was spectrum sensitive?

and its rainbow reflective
properties sponged twisting
of tentacled wonder from
every imaginable surface

what then?

would all dullness slip away?

or would we all be burdened
by a way of life unknown
at this juncture of elemental uncertainty?

I stare into the filmy rainbow swirls
of gasoline floating on puddles
and wonder

when will crude discovery of
what a waxy mess we've made
of petrol dependence finally
plop upon us?

when and why?

Who declares masculine/feminine?
What right do we have to decide?
For aren't we not born of both
With each chromosome supplied

DNA of mother and father
Made you who you are
Chemical equation ever perfect
Fused by variable star

Do not fret which way one leans
"Boyish" and "girlish" just terms
For everyone is quite unique
And in the heavens confirmed

Variables of X and Y, simply, are
Unknown to you or I
What come of who you truly are
Depends on how you try

Things chronicled in shalestone fossils
or superannuated tree rings
can only be read by convinced decipherers.
Disciples of scientific wedges,
the geologist, the dendrologist,
are playwrights of elapsed and extinct
note taking on modern note making gadgets.
Habits only experts in probing
can manage. To convince a tree hugger
that his data, is more evolved upon
a digital device rather than paper,
provides no comfort for fossil record-keeping
stone huggers worried about a valley
of eroding silicon.

I, for one, cannot be concerned for either.
As for a more feasible digital implant
to be splintered under my skin,
to keep track of my where-abouts
is now achievable. I may want one
for my dog or child, but do I want one
for myself?

Will I have a choice?

Squished between bottled memories are photo's depth
Fossils hold lastingness, enigmatic time
Explorer on coal fact-finding mission, yours and mine
Blackness of glassy lumps, tremendous breadth
At the old colliery, buried history, a coal town's death

Unbounded, far-reaching reminiscence of miner's lives
Great, great grandfathers incinerated citizenry
Existence not wasted, though no nostalgia cynically
Selling souls to company store per week for fives
Faith they measured by feeding children and wives

No way out from tombs of chiseled insignificance
Pick axes, shovels sounding klinks and klanks
Started his career at thirteen, some less in ranks
What  grandpa heard: cussing, dynamite dissonance
Sounds of ancestors buried in condition indigence

Cozenage be vein of her parsimony
deciphering unlikely by any logician
witchcraft concealed in metrical composition
She jerks one’s tears with great acrimony
as selfish rhymes sings no just harmony

Carefully she devises alliterative pull
this to an ear, dare sound enchanting
how known better be most common ranting
Twists words with lilt but not essence full
leaving some to say, “such pulled wool”

Speaketh she, as from long faraway world
this strange poetess be not one at all
seasoned sailor know she blow tall squall
Serpent’s tongue flailing and twice twirled
young sailor I suggest, keep sails securely furled

Taggers case freight car yards,

a complicated process

to choose splendid canvas. Steel

stealing is time lapsing. You

take a property, not yours.

You take flashing blink. It cooks

eyes of dull suburban housewives,

while they sit in wait

at railroad crossings. Its chicanery

is a contrivance tempting those

mother's sons. Offbeat drawn

out of the daily rides to school,

how they wish for spray paint,

to challenge their mothers'

judgements. Soon enough

he picks up his own can.

Feels that psssst.

Knows his new name.

Found one another in clean white cotton fluff
Immediate halt, Greek Theos, thematic vowel
Rock star curls, twists fell your neck, shoulders
Exquisite softness, loops eros and cotton towel

Deluxe strength, and rest of you tanned
Almost bumptious, except eyes, grin too cool
Brought into your ellipses, tremulous flutters
No names exchanged before mouths grew drool

Kiss that could have lasted conquering of Rome
What had happened to us in diaphoresis baths?
Battle of endurance ensued, gripping challenge
Whence young men in small towels cross paths

Squawks of terror from
mother and child,
a scene never making Hitchcock's
final cut. Competing gulls flap,
swoop,
kamikazi dive bomb
for fallen fried clams. Boardwalkers smeared
in cocktail sauce and blue cotton candy
sweet and sticky. Shrills sounding,
"kitta-wa-aaakee, kitta-wa-aaakee"
as wings slap in spun sugary goo.
She is tarred and feathered.
Gull down! Gull down!
Weekend warriors in Atlantic City
never saw it coming.

The sea wind whips westward
and ocean regurgitates all matter
of gunk. Tampons, syringes, punctured
floaties in shapes of ducks and dragons,
it is ever there
in the gleaming reflection of casinos,
for homeless veterans
to scavenge upon.

Even wounded gulls eat better.

Essential are my feminine ways
Finding balance in this male form
It is woman in me who advocates
Extraordinary intellectual attainment
Ability to do great many things
Tolerably well and even masterfully
A few
Makes me think, “is ‘masterfully’
Appropriate definition?”
When I feel this source of creation
This cleverness, learning and knowledge
Is woman
I am a man, yes
And grateful to be so
And I enjoy the company of men
Yet without this recognition
Of a more gentle natured being
That resides within my genetic make-up
Without this strength of my mother
A better-half of me might not exist
Therefore I am grateful
For the whole of my existence
And I wonder if women
Think the same in regards
To their fathers
And the gifts these men instill
In DNA
We all are varying degrees of both
Could this be doubted?
After all
This merger
This zygote
Are fertile ****, we become
Human from

Who shall find intermittent song?
...of reason wrong ...of time so lent
Who could position themselves to be
... lark in tree? ... one heaven sent?

Audacity to find in peace of mind
... words so kind ... yet ever untrue
Convince me now of lies so bold
... so very cold ... never more undue

Lie to me till eminent death
... with sweet breath ... in toiled rest
Sing to me great love accolade
... make fine charade ... fibbing best

Do this in pity, I shall bequeath
... a laurel wreath ... a poet's song
Precious days numbered in ways
... testament blaze ... schooling wrong

Consider final pathetic beseeching
... it's own bequeathing ... riled begging
Harden heart to own such phrases
... this last lying day .. is mild *******

... it won't hold on without you

Curiosity kills iniquitous kitty
She's a bad bad girl but oh so pretty
Sure-enough excited 'bout living in da city
All in a tizzy 'bout this nitty gritty ditty

She's Agog-a-go-go, now's she's got her own show
Won't be doin' any ordinary *****
Less you pay her prices, and that's alotta dough to throw
So don't get fixated on Agog-a-go-go

Wax those whiskers, if you really like her Mister
All the DJ's love her 'cause she's such a sister mixer
It's all good fun, till she comes up with a blister
Didn't hear it from me, but da liquor does whisper

She's Agog-a-go-go, soon to be a no-show
'Cause she's mighty hyped 'bout da fame ya know, ya know
Emotion motion industry can catch you with a logo
But the truth is honey it all ends up a big 'ole no-go

She meets a real cool cat, who shows her how to cope
But everybody knows, he's just sellin' her dope
Keeps her on a leash, for other men to *****
Miss Agog-a-go-go is soon to lose all hope

She's Agog-a-go-go, Agog-a-go-go

She holds my attention
Having gently extracted eye from my head
Rolls my all seeing sphere
Against every inch of her
Releases any fractionated fears
Peripheral intensity
Then she
Inserts me
Shows me insides
Mysteries unrevealed to others
Chasms of want and desire
Yearn canyons
So large at this angle
Light pours in
From her eyes
Nostrils
Ear cavities
Her open mouth
Where succulent mist is swallowed
No organs exist in here
Other than
A hard thumping heart
This eye inside her
Reverberates
Learns her dance

Tell elms, "clock's tics move fast past tocs
bring out the greenery, push past buds."
I've waited too long  
and Spring is too short.
Aluminum siding has capsized
and I am sunk too far in this rut.
Toenails have begun taking root.
Impoverished tin can town, with feral cats  
better fed on mice and sparrows,
releases its billowing film
from trash-to-steam chimneys.
And septic pea soup drips from sky,
so tell elms, "Hurry!"
Blot out pestilential reality  
of this deadly poverty
with green places the sparrows might nest.
I will keep safe the mice.

Birds in mass, commune on crumbs
What's thrown to them, devoured
I am their Father, the wine soured
Distant when our time comes
Misinterpretation, speaking in tongues

Chimes recordings, dull church bells
Twenty first century interpretation
An audio playback congregation
Find gospels taught in prison cells
Each,  internally, their own hells

Homomorphism, the new Genesis
Everything becomes the same
No answer as to, who to, blame
For genetic selection brings us this
And all the choir coos in bliss

Something needs to thaw before dinner
can be cooked. There is a multitude of frozen
things in this house. Three refrigerators
to match same number of icy hearts. They
all warm up at different times, though a stale
frost seems to permeate.

Today I removed a cloud from the sky
and dissected it

This is what I found:
it's skin was made of a drove of lambs
hundreds of them
completely weightless

As I plucked them off
they rose in insomnia-tic song
puffing along
back to their fields of azure
ever for sure
someone would soon be counting on them

As I uncovered this first layer
and watch merry ones drift away
I’d liken to say
saw a wash of dreams unfold
more than the many sheep I counted
and fell into them

And drifted away as well
you were there too
pouring yours into this floating vessel
of bouncy measurements
of worries and hopes

And we kept on drifting
waiting to rain

Fussily he figures, that’s not good enough for him
Excessively high standards got his best, and then
Contempt for average qualities; things he had abhorred
Became almost everything, as he always needed more

His code of behavior, to one, might seem ideal
Criterion of excellence would show at every meal
Fork, knife and spoon oh-so polished, and set precisely
All a fanciful show, and done so ever nicely

Particular attention to each and every detail
In acquisition of mate, indisputably he’d fail
For who could ever live up to these extreme conventions?
Or be it prissy of me, to mention these intensions?

Mr. Fastidious to some, might seem the status quo
A state in which display, is an always-complex show
Fail not to follow all rules, as they are set to be
Or you might dine alone, a wordy one like me

Having left paradise some time back,
and watching tint fade, rose sky
goes lavender, washes into deep blue.
These ultra violet filters, pandemonical,
fly googley-eyed and I am stuck
in hard realization of incapacity
to adapt to current color scheme.
Can grey go further black
until soot is creosote?
Tar now tumbles and bubbles
in nostrils, blindness leaving only
sense of smell, an oil field carnage.
Green by any means,
flags with dollar signs,
majestically waving and when
complete soul is sold out,
I disperse upon a riptide
of foamy grey matter.
Silicon Valley earthquake
sends forth satanical tsunami,
washing away World Wide Web
and your pretend paradise too.

Affinities bend the throttle, origin of our tribe
So hurtled as to collide, proving love weird
Instantly, expectations, hearts seared
To cool an overheated engine, a wide-eyed bride

Conjugal visits, if only this prison permitted
Yet recklessly committed, we find ourselves
Bound by obscurity promised, are elves
And faeries whose spells are transmitted

Who's dash against clatter does or doesn't?
What was or wasn't, how we might still be unclear
Still risking it all for fuzzy ambiguity, my dear
A six in one hand or that other half dozen

So we did it, it's done, and never more fun
My spun honey bun, I have no single regret
For you are my jangly chain, and I, your pet
Love run-in has been wet, and oh so wildly won

Umpteen Gods control me
and Zillion brethren alike
born of scads of clans we are mutts
Howling at a moon yowling back
guttural vibration echoing, veering a tempo
towards a tempest tempting temptation itself

These windstorms hailing on a juncture
that infinity will not allow to stop
boggle me into complete
Unrestingly humble obedience
Until I’m not
and a Zillion others follow in suit

Hollowness came of lightning strike
long before my meeting
that *****, muscular oak. It was
always that way. I knew no different
of it.

Its charred orifice spoke of
an interloper,
an intruder whose presence
carved fire within,
creating sooty vacuity.

Marvelous survival instinct however,
shown by this tree's greening
each Spring, taught me
perseverance. My own lightning
strikes to be weathered as well,
but perhaps not with as much ardor.

Vehemence and passion can still
live within internal voids.
I have witnessed many furry
and feathered creatures raise brood
from the scarred hole of that oak.
How is it I know this is good?

For a fuzzy feeling of wonder,
still somehow stirs reliance in
desire outside this emptiness.

I see the reflection of light
in the critter's eyes which emerges
from darkness which has kept
it safe. Yet now, hunger encourages
it to roam from its dwelling.

Am I the same?

Bleak glimmers

Oh yes I'm going there
And
just goes to duller place

I'll stop right there

Dauntlessness may be indicative of strangest courage
Who shall say; those rushing to battle?
Oblivious youth prodded off like blank beef cattle
Dare I dispel bravest image; hero for time and peerage
No mother wants her son minced, poured into porridge

Good intention don't be blinded by noble cause
Nobility see no ill harm in poor's sacrifice
Do they offer their own; O when will it suffice?
To abandon war, to give thought, to give pause
Why be meat within richest men's jaws?

Let heroism gain spirit of more peaceful prowess
Join broad-minded, leave dull herd
Who directs minds in this theater of absurd?
Corporations and government alliances boundless
Don't be a cow and don't find yourself powerless

Silence and stillness awoken
And dishrags fall from sky's brink
Slapping mud splattering broken
New Jersey now kitchen sink

Flash from neighbor's window
Shot off mirror into my eyes
Big Mama begins without intro
Surrounds me gravy and fries

I'm rowing rivers in plastic cup
Other cars are bobbing downstream
What has Mother Nature just dished up?
Churning seafoam into whipped cream

On my way to the museum, a tall slender youth showed off to me. He daringly leapt, pummeling himself in an articulated half twist over an iron gate I was passing. This gymnastic feat was finished facing me from other side of fence. The glimmered wink he left me with had an added curl to one side his lip. That told me my own look of astonishment, to this out-of-nowhere acrobatic display, was just the reaction this young man had expected. Peculiar this is, as it brings a thought mission to mind. Exactly what I should find when I get to the museum, may never equal what happenstance just threw in front of me. So I return home, to paint a picture instead.

Grass cuttings savor an essence, if it were not for the flavor of gasoline added to it. Chores multiply in the garden as days snug up to summer. Warming theory of companion planting goes further than marigolds with tomatoes. Nasturtiums nuzzling cornstalks nicely agree. However, it is the editing of more combative creepers that keep this gardener flustered among the mustard greens. I'm inclined to let it all go, but the peanut grass gets so thuggish, someone needs to teach it a lesson. Yet, full eradication seems too vicious as hummingbirds do adore its frosting of bells. It's a nectar aggrandizement they throb upon in throngs. So, who am I to commit holocaust? After all, with the loosening of soil it provides when pulled, aeration is a welcome aftermath.

So it is continuous, and outright perfection in the pull and push of entirety. Now if I might trade that gas mower in for a push one, a transcendence of impeccability may occur. I might even breathe better.

Certain kinetics are involved when one needs to drain water from the ears. Poolside, you see freshly moistened swimmers bounce, when the laps are over. Head shaking and pinkie probing, along with vigorous jiggling may shimmy a pop of the slurry. It's a pleasing, almost orgasmed, satisfaction. Such accomplishments in life seem trivial, but for something stuck out of place for too long, that releasing can be ecstatic. I figure when this reservoir of penned up annoyances, breaks through the dammed existence I live presently, that surge may jettison and squirt from my head like centrifugal lawn sprinkler. A coming of such the world has never seen.

Extemporaneous words fall
Then jaw drops

Nonchalant phrases
to well deserved ear
avoiding acknowledgement

So back and forth it goes
underneath whole quantity
of quality

Then

When all the words are forgotten
couple stares at each other
desperately trying to

Remember
who that person is
But it is no use
and best to hope for

Tomorrow's lucidity

And when those moments
have slipped away
Alzheimer's wins

Somebody got some diethylstilbestrol?
Just started my moon
Plus words that rhyme within themselves
Are a super hot turn on
Which is exactly for what this is prescribed
Don’t box it in ladies
May be circumcised, but won’t be circumscribed
Well fancy that, two words
With another little naughty word right inside
Whew! It’s hot and sticky
Hand over a popsicle too, would ya Dahlin’
Havin’ a mind melt
Time for this child to get imbibed

Holographic stew
With notes of hippie ****
Served from coconut ladles
Into your banana leaf bowl
A gift from Guru Gabigoo
For feeling his essence
He wants you to know
We are a family of light
And he is the beacon
And his light reflects through us
And if your eyes feel like spirographs
And you feel like you're going to *****
Don't worry
It's just the mushroom curry taking effect
You will feel better in a few hours
Just relax
Go with the flow
We're your family now
We love you
That is
As long as you sign here
Relinquishing your life savings
And any material possessions
Such as jewelry, stocks or bonds
Cars, deeds, access to any trust funds
And/or checking accounts
Have you tasted the Kool-Ade?
It's really cool
You should try some

Brother PJ

Connecting night's dots of lights
I'm so often left bewildered
If I could, I surely should
Travel Milky Way unfiltered
Squishing aglow to dim although
These wantings have been pilfered
By blur of light from this night
And another man's wish differed
Star snatched crime, so sublime
Nothing and all considered

Deciphering astrophysicists’ thought
processing; this not any too easy.
What matter dark matter sought
or if moons be made so cheesy?
Theory ever emphasized seem ******.

What is there here to prove
amongst this space exploration?
Distancing self from earth you’ve
denied Mother Earth’s lactation.
Get real here right now education.

Are you listening dear NOVA TV?
Big Bang me where sun does not shine.
What care I to search galaxy,
when to me worldly poems seem fine?
Just where do we draw literate line?

Losing language of our cultures
as we see school funding disintegrate.
Lockheed Martin be the vultures.
Less deploying do we need to integrate:
for a monkey would I rather imitate.

Eeek! Eeek!

Gift of friends in life such blessing
Invoking divination and favor upon
Where we'd be left to guessing
Life with no friends, may as well be gone
To place of no light or dawn

Cherish each and every human
Be grateful for lessons learned
Spirit inhabiting home, a numen
No need for worry, with equal concern
Care one gives, shall be returned

We simply particles, iridescent dust
Trickling behind pushing galaxies
Place for each kindred spirit a must
Importance this, know has gravity
As people all of stardust family

So how we mold, blend, contour
Gives malleability to make room all
Truth be told, friend is loving conjure
Make magic comradely however small
Be there for each other through long haul

Lightning bugs sing a lullaby for deaf
Off in fields casting twinkling rhythm
This music for eyes; swooping treble clef
Silent visual serenade, I dancing with’thm

Struck by illuminate flickers
How it is in court of mating
Notion that insects must also dicker
Pas de deux of crawlies dating

So I glow
And there
I go

Flit To Me, My Pretty
or Dance Of Kinglet

Sing, “tay-tay-tay,” all the day
carry on in morning sun
bouncing on sandy stream banks
Kinglet friend of mine
Your yellow crown, breast of cotton down
O be lost daydreams so fine

This is what twitting really is
Euphoria found in flash
discerning your small “tay”-ing song
milkweed fluff you find
act as if you are stealing, no crime here
milkweed glad; spread seed as kind

Wash yourself amidst these puddles
preen yourself for mating
You’ve made a nest for nothing other
how sweet your callers come
rock a vantage point of eternity
from here we see all succumb

This rock and I

stuck counting dogwood
one flower two flower three
my I love this job