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1.7k · Mar 2018
Dreams of bruised peaches
r Mar 2018
I had been dreaming
about eating bruised peaches
that grew from a tree
by the river, its water
thick and sweet as sap.

I thought I saw an old woman
shaking her dustmop,
but it was only the moon
and stardust in the dark
that never stops.

In the fields
there was something barren
like a journey
and echoes of salt
sprinkling on a table
with food laid out for a wake.

The fog from the dream
by the river was smothering;
I was suffocating lying there
where it is said a young mother
once walked into the water
with the pockets of her dress
stuffed full of smooth rocks.

I woke when I heard
shouting that tore out the light
as night came flying by
like a bird dressed for a feast
wearing his finest black feathers.
1.7k · Oct 2013
Outlaw by Default
r Oct 2013
Texas Rangers' pointed stars he wore
as rowels on the shank of his spurs with pride.
The holes in the center punched with squint not
scowls and his .45 Colt Peacemaker true and tried.
Nothing personal against the Rangers,
they just didn't understand.
They chased him for the killing of strangers
whose whiskey tempers forced his hand.
He wore their stars upon his spurs not as a prize
for his skill in killing two of Texas' best,
but for their courage and their pride.
Now he spends his last years in Mexico
with his back to the wall and Peacemaker
on his side.
Playing poker, stealing tequila drunken
outlaws gold.
Eights and Aces they always stand.
An outlaw by default
never again to cross the Rio Grande.

r
Another early one deleted and recovered by friend Lane.  First posted 6 April 2013.
1.7k · Apr 2016
Blackfly blues
r Apr 2016
When the dark days come
and a man searches
for high ground

like a lost explorer,
a man going nowhere,

a wanderer with no ballad,

a man who dreams
to the beat of the dark
night's drum

playing light
of the moon, yet
out of tune

like the gloom only a poet
feels alone in a cold room.
For a friend who has the blackfly blues. Tomorrow is a new sun.
1.7k · Jul 2013
My Friend Ed
r Jul 2013
Back when I was a follower
I had a good friend Ed
He grew up amongst the Alps
His Pops worked for the Ambassador
Details left unsaid
Ed could climb the steepest crags
Like a mountain goat on ****
And ski the steepest slopes
Like a rocket on a sled

As I said
I was a follower back then
And my friend Ed
With his prematurely balding pate
Would chuckle at my dread
Following him up a sheer rock face
Free style climbing into outer space
Rappelling down the other side
No belay to slow my glide

I remember the first time
Ed led me wrong
Clinging tightly like a lover
Halfway up the face
Hugging tightly a giant rock
Like a gambler hugs an Ace
No holds left or right, up or down
Too scared to breathe or shout for help
Till there was Ed like a monkey scurrying round

A smile of reassurance
Laughing at my plight
“Left hand here, right hand there
“Right foot to the left, left foot to the right”
Till finally at the top
Sweating, swearing, trembling
Lying on my back
He sitting there without a twitch
Thanks Ed, you *******

And then we hit the slopes
Ed starting with the Black
Piece of cake he said
I thought I had the knack
First mogul flying high
Second one I kissed the sky
Third I began the tumble
All head and *** and skis
Face buried in the freeze

I knew it would come one day
Ed asking me to dive
He didn’t mean the water
Ed loved to dive the skies
Finally I decided
No more the follower to be
I repeated the grunts number one rule
The only things that fall from the sky
The snow, the rain, bird **** and fools

We shed our uniforms
Said our goodbyes and headed home
Me to the South and East
Ed further West and North to roam
Last I heard my friend Ed was dead
Jumping from a bridge
The final dive for my friend Ed
Deep into a river gorge
I think he just got bored
February 2013
1.7k · Nov 2016
Dreams of wild geese
r Nov 2016
November comes
with the wild geese
in their V like memories
of an arrow flying
too close to the sun
and their feathers shining
as their wings beat as one
drum in the distance
signaling that winter
is coming, and the cold
days will keep us inside
warmed by the fires we crave
deep in our caves painting
and dreaming away.
r Jul 2016
When I sleep
a wind blows
over strange lands
I don't know
and I feel like a lamp
a stranger is holding up
looking for a way
through a dark field
I will walk through.
1.7k · Jun 2014
CrIsis in Babylon
r Jun 2014
Spring grapes die on withered vine
Wine of wrath flows bitter red
Isis' son seeks Babylon
Avenge by death the deed of Set

Along Euphrates course they fled
From march of madmen to the throne
And wine of wrath flows bitter red
Eagles flock to hawk by drone

Hung within a garden high
Black masks the march of death
Give new life to Levant's lie
And wine of wrath flows bitter red.

r~ 6/17/14
\•/\
   |     ISIS march to Baghdad.
  / \
r Oct 2016
Come on girl
it's time to fly

Don't let this gray sky
hold us down

The water may swirl
but we won't drown

Ain't nothing but the wind
and the rain keeping us in

Let's get on out of here
and get some air

Driving sideways
through this storm

Running its fingers
through our hair

Like a swarm
of honeybees came

Singing Love is like a hurricane
and Here comes those tears again

Writing words
upon my window pane

Come on girl,
it's just the wind and the rain.
A nod to Neil Young and Jackson Browne,
1.7k · Jul 2016
Feeling the dark, like light
r Jul 2016
Everything is asleep
and in pain, in love
and dreaming
about another life
I say to myself,
it is time I take my own
lookout, unfaithful
sailors know they can't
see a thing but they keep
their place on the prow
out there in the darkness
where boats are colliding,
oh yes, they are blind
or awake feeling the dark
like light, like those levels
of cold and heat underwater,
you know what I mean,
when you are dreaming
or in danger, that place
where fish live and sleep,
sometimes I think I understand
everything,  but I know that
I am wrong, and incredible
as it seems, the shadow I see
when I'm hung, I want to think
of hideouts in the mountains
where a man can go to die there.
1.7k · Jul 2016
Dark, the black man
r Jul 2016
I believe there is no sanctuary
for me in this subdivision
of dreams, cathedrals
built by unknowns

I am like grass
cracking their concrete,
I was carved by a stone knife
in the mountains
where I learned to speak

I am the rider called death
bleeding in my sleep,
sitting in the saddle
with Dark, the black man
and his crazy blues

I sink down like a diver
into the deep water,
like an unknown poet
going down with his ship.
1.7k · Feb 2014
Squinting to Memories
r Feb 2014
I squint  just right
And capture a memory almost forgotten
Jars of fruit and honey fresh from hives
Filling shelves in old smokehouse
Home-made butter and molasses
In her kitchen
Waiting to smother
Biscuits warming
On black cast iron wood-stove
Boxes of buttons
An old cameo
Split wood in corner
Old sleepy dog on porch
The house on the hill
Where Mom's Granny rocked

r ~ 16Feb14
1.7k · Feb 2017
An affair with the moon
r Feb 2017
When I go out at night
trying to sweep up the stars
my woman grows weary
of the cold weather in me
she thinks I am with someone
else, but it is midnight
and I am alone with the moon
that woman in a red dress
standing on the beach
but you see, it is an empty
plate with no supper, or
maybe a piece of stationery
without a lover's phone number.
1.7k · Dec 2014
hallowed
r Dec 2014
I like how my lips
fit that hollow
by your collar bone

I could sing an anthem there
or whisper sweet
sweet nothings.
r ~ 12/7/14
r Dec 2016
Oh, those poor
peasants
without a ***
to **** in
who celebrate their
thin-skinned twittering
king ascending
in his gilded elevator
of gold stolen
from the empty plates
of those
who do pay taxes
with real axes
to grind
it boggles my mind
just what in
the hell
could they have been
thinking
I mean, Sweet
Jesus, we'll all be
refugees
in the end.


Where e're we go, we celebrate
The land that makes us refugees,
From fear of priests with empty plates
From guilt and weeping effigies.


--Shane MacClowan, "Thousands Are Sailing"
https://mobile.twitter.com/StoneyCreeker1/status/807561984078123008
1.7k · Apr 2016
Like the cold ground
r Apr 2016
I once was in a place I loved
but left. Let me tell you why.

Friend, I won't give you any of this ****
about vision quests or fields to plow.

I just ran out of patience and time.
And reasons for staying. Anyhow.

That beautiful ghost of a woman
of mine said I don't love you, BOO.
And I was gone. So long.

My heart froze solid
like the cold ground I sleep on.
1.7k · Apr 2016
Light out
r Apr 2016
The moon wades the sea
and lifts his curved blade

to cut loose the tide
tied to the shore

and it's high time I listen
for the secret word

that tells me to turn
out the light and go home.
1.7k · Feb 2016
Blacknight
r Feb 2016
Shine on you blacknight
like the dark light of a dead star

deep as a black well
drawn from my memory

clear as a mirror
over the mouths of the dead.
1.7k · Jan 2016
Pauses
r Jan 2016
Last night I read your poem
in bed instead of writing
like I'd said I would.  I
had to start over twice
because my eyes aren't
as good as my heart
when it comes to stopping
and starting at pauses
heavy with losses.  Lost
causes and me seem to be
your specialties. Especially me.
1.7k · Mar 2016
Angles and cherubs
r Mar 2016
I've worked with shovel and
trowel half of my life but right
now if I could recall the hypo-
tenuse of a right triangle I'd
try another angle for putting
those tools to use digging a rect-
angular hole so neat and six feet
deep then sew my mouth shut
just so I can't tell the devil where
to go when it's cold and I'm sleeping
with white slugs behind my ears like
big Beltones so I can hear the mock-
ingbird sing those words on my stone.
1.7k · Jul 2014
Kiss me with her lipstick
r Jul 2014
Your sweet lips
taste just like hers
I've tasted them before
Tasty honey lipstick
on top of yours
You rustled me
out of her door
Now you're on the inside
taking more than I could give
Sighing with your lips
on top of hers
She's wanting more
Give her another kiss for me
then hurry home
and kiss me with her lipstick
while I think of her
on top of yours.

r ~ 7/18/14
\¥/\
|    ♡♥♡
/ \
1.7k · Oct 2014
gray area
r Oct 2014
i still spell gray
with an a

not an e
in my po-etry

does it matter
to the grammar?

hoo's to say

says the owl
to the vowel

it's a gray area.

r  ~ 10/17/14
\¥/\
  |    aeiouandsometimesidontcare
/\
1.7k · Sep 2016
Moon crossways over the bed
r Sep 2016
A storm is brewing in the east
and a white bird is flying high,
like the shadow of smoke
from the last fires in the moonlight,
lying crossways over the bed
on her belly in dark *******,
whatever she is dreaming
its meaning she keeps to herself.
1.7k · Jun 2014
Nana in the Morning
r Jun 2014
O,
to be
Manet
with Nana
on that morning
before the stroke
of brush did touch
her cheeks with blush
of immoral immortality.

r ~ 6/11/14
\•/\
   |.    Edouard Manet 1832-1883
  / \
1.7k · Oct 2016
Bone moth
r Oct 2016
Last night I rode
that dark train
through the hollows
of my childhood
on the black wings
of a swallow fleeting
beneath the eaves
of long ago evenings
where bone moths
were breathing
their last breaths
while dead children
slept well up the hill.
1.7k · Sep 2016
When Lisa lost her smile
r Sep 2016
I recall
her lost smile

like a sketch
I draw from my memory

and those days in the rain
laughing, drops

hitting the creek
slow as a dream

until a shadow
fell across the mirror

brushing her hair
in a dark room

like a honeycomb
of sad bees

and double entendres
two lifetimes ago.
1.7k · Jun 2014
Rewind at 2 a.m.
r Jun 2014
Lying here rewinding us
while you sleep
Reflecting on where we've been
and where we are
Pausing here and there
feeling for effect
I look at you and wonder
just how much more
I could  ever hope to have-
to hope to live-
that's more than this.

Fast-forward to last night
and there we were
loving like there'll be
no tomorrow
Loving away all of those angry  
yesterdays
Now it's 2 a.m. and my heart
is wide awake
hoping you'll dream us
back again
Rewind us back to where
our love began.

r ~ 6/8/14
\•/\
   |    
  / \
1.7k · Jun 2014
In the mirror
r Jun 2014
I had a father,
he was a kind man.
I'm not the kind of man
he was.

I try hard,
sometimes I fail.
I still look for him
in the mirror.

He fought two wars;
didn't make him strong.
He did that on his own;
he fought his own wars.

Looking back
now that he's gone,
I have to stop and wonder
what was in the water.

My old man
was the kind of man
that someday I hope to see
in the mirror.

r ~ 6/14/14
\●/\
   |   My old man.  Happy Father's Day.
/ \
1.7k · Sep 2013
The Crystal Bridge
r Sep 2013
I crossed a crystal bridge
A bridge of clear quartz crystal
Leading me to nowhere land
My rubber soul did whistle
I could see beatles through the sides  
And yellow submarines below
I decided to sit in and make no plans
And be a nowhere man but here
In this bridge of quartz crystal clear

r  22Sept13
Kudos to the Beatles: John, Paul, George and Ringo.  Nowhere Man my favorite song of their's.
1.7k · Aug 2014
Dune days
r Aug 2014
Years disappear
under shifting dunes
of days and endless nights.
A quiet cloaks
the ticking house
as summer falls
slowly on the crystal coast.
Evening tide is running out.
Days get shorter by the day;
moonrise comes early
above the straight blue line.

Through the faded curtain
a lone ship far out to sea,
a gull floating on a breeze,
driftwood on the shore.
A young boy casts his net
and pulls it back once more.
Catching memories
discarded in the sand;
another dune is born.
He turns his back upon the ship
and wanders home.

r ~ 8/5/14
\¥/\
  |      ~~~~=^=~~~~tiyiyime...
/ \
r Apr 2014
Home Depot does not sell azure paint.
No. They do have Morning Sky,
Tropical Lagoon, Morning Breeze,
Ocean Cruise, Cozumel, Empress Teal,
Almost Aqua, and Navy.  But no azure.  
No cyan, either. No plain ol' blue.
I will take my verdant money elsewhere.
Home Depot should be more poet friendly.

r ~ 4/29/14
\•/\
   |
  / \
1.6k · Feb 2014
The Daisy Chronicles
r Feb 2014
At eight weeks old, she was our newly rescued mixed beagle pup.

Noah named her Daisy. Not a name I would have chosen, but certainly as sweet as

memories of Grandma's homemade molasses
bubbling in the old iron kettle brought out from the smokehouse for only one day each year on a crisp fall morning.

By sixteen weeks it was evident that all involved in the rescue didn't know squat about Beagles. After a frantic thirty seconds on Google, our mistake was quite clear in the form of about five hundred red and black and tan photographs.   We were the proud but red-faced and slightly shocked owners of a "**** Dog". Yep. And Daisy was her name-o.

Two years and seventy pounds down the road, I sat in my morning solitude spot this day with a good mug and a good book watching the nut hatches, house finch, and Black-capped/Carolina Chickadees tearing that special blend seed up as Daisy patrolled the yard for squirrels with one eye and her nose to the sky watching for the lone and clever Rock Pigeon scout that always precedes the flurry of flying rodents raiding my feeder. I can't help but to smile as Daisy glances at me through the deck door glass to see if I am admiring her skill and diligence.   I am.

This being a Sunday before the dreaded M word day, I tend to lounge lazily around the house in my worn Clapton pj bottoms and hol(e)y Langley T-shirt. My shadow follows me from comfort to comfort spot knowing that I leave a trail of odd snacks from my kitchen perch to living room couch to study to lazy bed, and back again. She is showing a bit of winter fat.

To be continued....

r ~ 9Feb14
Nat: consider these just working notes and observations on Daisy for the requested Daisy Companion poem once the elusive poetic fever strikes again.
1.6k · Sep 2013
Flava of the Favela
r Sep 2013
She came from a favela
Steep ***** above Rio
Color of dark chocolate
And vanilla of mestizo

Worked the narrow streets
Walked them like a queen
Bad boys knew her beats
Her stir did leave a sheen

In translucent woven sheets
Swaying hips and pouted lips
Bad cops along her favela beat
Always whistling as they glimpse

Flava of favela became queen
Said so long to to steep streets
Tin built hut and streets unclean
Became the Queen of Rio

r  18Sept13
1.6k · May 2014
Throwback
r May 2014
If I could sing
You'd throw me back
Say I'm not a keeper
Cuz I can't sing
Your song anyhow.

But if I could
I'd be singing
Something sweeter
To make you cling
To me...all day long.

If I could sing
You'd throw me away
Call me a dreamer
And there's not a thing
I could say to say you're wrong.

When I sing
Toss me into your river
Cuz I'm a dreaming swimmer
I could swim in your water
All night long.

r ~ 5/4/14
\•/\
   |   I can't sing a lick, but I dream big  
  / \
1.6k · Apr 2017
Only dreaming
r Apr 2017
I have a son
not too far south
of me, close enough
to jump in my car
and go speak of my love

but I won't put a bit
in his mouth or saddle
him with my troubles

We could cut our palms
open with sharp knives
and be blood brothers
the rest of our lives

and I could find another
woman in the mountains
instead of staying here
with his mother he loves
while he swims his own
sea of life without me

instead I drive long drives
and count the keys
on the black piano
of the highways at night
passing beautiful women
who wave and smile back

but I'm only dreaming
keeping night watch
over my bed,  I dream
about old songs that sing
back to me like one
by Townes Van Zandt
about going down to see
a woman named Kathleen.
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=KtrJAkNRqOY
1.6k · Jun 2014
Dreams of Helen
r Jun 2014
Alone in his dark apartment
black dog asleep
the sound of children playing
in the street outside his window-
children of color, his housekeeper says,
not quite seeing the distinction
only hearing happy voices-
an old jazz number on the radio
as he stands and dances slowly
with his cane tap, tap, tapping
to the beat and dreaming of a girl
he once read about named Helen
in a book of braille.

r ~ 6/6/14
\•/\
   |    \
  / \
1.6k · Apr 2014
Wasp's Shadow
r Apr 2014
A wisp of gray cloud slips by
like a passing doubt.

A fleeting black thought flies
with the shadow of a wasp.

An unfelt feeling of cold fear
seeks warmth through window light.

Striped feral cat creeps too near,
sees red-tailed hawk in flight.

Time spent with toes in sand,
washed by water clear and cold.

Empty thoughts to understand,
one wave comes, another one goes.

r ~ 4/11/14
1.6k · Aug 2013
The Sting
r Aug 2013
She reached out her hand
Something to give to me
I was expecting her wedding band
Pain given freely
Her expression bland
Instead it was a Bumblebee
Surprised I was
Her gesture and her gift of tomorrow
Her tears because
Of laughter and not sorrow
I returned to her my eyes freely
Tears of another tomorrow
The sting of love gone steely
1.6k · Dec 2014
Surreptitious
r Dec 2014
My glances surreptitious
and from a distance

with a certain amount of concern
and now i've learned
that i am not the strongest person

i know and my life is so,
so small in comparison.


r ~ 12/17/14
1.6k · Dec 2016
Holy Poets
r Dec 2016
To all of you poets
down South and up North
West and to the East
whoever you are
whatever your beliefs
I wish you much joy
happiness and peace
for on this one night
at least think no more
of spite, anger and war
sickness, sorrow or grief
for wherever you are
may kindness be the star
that lights all of our ways.
Peace to you, holy poets.
1.6k · May 2014
stir-fry
r May 2014
A little of dis,
little of dat,
chop-chopped
to tasty portions
perfectly spread
and  contortioned
simmerin' sin
stir-fried jes right.

r 5/31/14
\•/\
   |
  / \
1.6k · Aug 2014
through the sun to Venus
r Aug 2014
she wore a soft white sundress
·weathered light cotton·
and when she stood just right
-in the August sun-
I could see clear through to Venus.

r ~ 8/24/14
\¥/\
|   diaphanous
/ \
1.6k · Jun 2014
Half-hearted
r Jun 2014
Ours was less an Arab Spring
and more a half-hearted coup d'état.
There was no immolation,
no burning desire on your part;
no passion in the streets of you.

You stole in at night
through a window I'd left open,
a crack in my need
for something more than mere
existence.  From me there was
no resistance.

I let you lead, and followed blindly;
my voice I raised on your behalf
against all that I had known before.
Your words, your whispers
alone could incite me to storm
against the strongest walls.

Now, as summer comes
and this sectarian affair,
this spring uprising
that we called us has ended,
I sweep the streets of our debris
and wander down
the empty avenues
of you, half-hearted.

r ~ 6/5/14
\•/\
   |      الربيع العربي
  / \
1.6k · Nov 2013
Arapaho Bride
r Nov 2013
He put hummingbirds in his bride’s hair
With fine vines he tied them there
To fan her skin in hot summer air
With cactus flowers to provide nectar

She wore soft beaded deer skin clothes
And slept beneath the finest buffalo robes
A warm fire she built to keep out the cold
His beautiful wife would stoke his coals

On a cold winter night she bore him a son
Both woman and child never saw the sun
His people cried and beat their drums
Singing songs of sorrow and loss of the young

Across the snowy plains now fast he rides
His strongest pony never breaking stride
He travels to the place where the gods’ reside
To join them on their journey to the other side

r  15 Nov 2013
1.6k · Feb 2014
Red-winged Blackbird
r Feb 2014
White frozen pine tree
   framed bright red and yellow flash
   of red-winged blackbird

r ~ 12Feb14
r Jul 2014
To the far reach
where the soul is frozen
and the sun doesn’t know
a rise from a fall
dark nights are unsettling
and the silence is cold

but the sun doesn't know
what the sun doesn't know.

Borealis burns
to thaw out a feeling
and you ride with the flow
on a southerly heading
as the sun stays low
beneath a fire-kissed sky

and you ride the flow
to ride with the flow.

Till warm sea winds
and calm sets you down
as the rain settles in
with a comforting sound
evening will fall
on Bocas del Toro

as the rain settles in,
as the rain settles in.

r ~ 7/11/14
\¥/\
  |     from Alaska to Panama
/ \
1.6k · Aug 2016
Grave, like the sea
r Aug 2016
Near morning
by the sea
where I tangle
with the shadows
like a cage of sad tigers
by a grave I find a rope ladder
left by a thief
as the tide steals my eyes,
prisoners of time
without a hammer
trying to drive a stake
in the ground
and this is my crime
living and dreaming.
1.6k · Aug 2016
Revolver
r Aug 2016
Some memories I give her
to drown in dark water,

like an old revolver
thrown into a river,

nights spent drinking
the moon under a table

made of maple and fables
we once believed true

love lost, found
and lost again together

where only the mountains
and seas last forever.
r May 2016
I used to stay up all night
driving through pastures
in a sweetheart's daddy's jeep

I remember the moon in the woods
through the trees like a girl
running in white *******

Like a boat losing its shadow
to the wind, you can lie
yourself back into bodies
you never touched

What love there was
flashes by like chrome
on a fender skirt.
1.6k · May 2019
Alive on the Blue Mesa
r May 2019
That badass girl’s got curves
like a Spanish guitar
a few scratches, a lot of scars
you can see almost any Saturday
at the Bullets for Martyrs Cantina
if she's not strung too tight, she’s a
lean, mean beautiful Argentine into
that whole revolutionary scene
singing Seremos como el Che
all olive drabbed and black beret’d
always quick with a ¿Como estas?
Eh, I'm okay I says, mis chica mas
bella, pero su ese Che es muerto
but here on the B!ue Mesa is where
the truly live come to live - ¿Comprende?
It’s been awhile since I’ve visited the Blue Mesa.

https://hellopoetry.com/collection/7717/blue-mesa-collection/
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