This latent calculus of isolation
I rue the very hour of human -
participation , choosing to smear my body
with the very mud of creation
Forever more* ..

My grandparents have returned as
the sunny new day , my Dad is the
Christmas holiday
My friend Tim is music that touches my
heart , Mama Kuhn is the pen I use
to share my art* ..

Glorious showers squeegee the festive blues , they scrub the trees and brighten the moon
They bathe the birdies and sweep the drives , brighten the grass and detail the sky
Brushboard pines fastidiously tend to the oaks , 'Alabamers' leave the homesteads **** 'n span and float the johnboats
The catfish come alive and the crappie bite all night , the crickets seem to chirp non-stop till sunlight arrives* ....

While I stood immobilized in thought the sunlight turned wet streets into diamonds
People slowly returned from their storm shelter hideouts
I remember the sound of tires plowing through rain pools
A fools reflection in a store window , a straggling gust of air , the pang of solitude , scribbled chalkboard innuendo
My God stares over my shoulder with an eraser
Omitting filthy thoughts committed to the board
Smacking my young hands with rulers , the 'stuff' of unchecked imagination entwined in thorn
Hands clasped beneath my chin
Deciphering godliness from mortal sin
These wrinkled , wicked hands that feed city park birds
Eyes that recognize those in need can secretly undress women
on the busy streets
Was Jesus the beggar I looked away from or was he the
******* I made fun and sport of
Plodding the avenue , dreading home
Planning every moment , calculating every roll of the bones on the game board* ...

Verses from Proverbs highlighted in yellow
Dogeared pages in Mark and Matthew
A flattened rose from a previous lover  
A Home Depot coupon book marker
with a few four leaf clovers* ..

Forsaken , little brick house
Where have the children gone
Your owners are two tombstones
The yard now overgrown
No couple to make you a home
No doorbell , no holiday decorations ,
no good news on the telephone
Little brick house , you once held
love within your four sturdy walls ,
now your better days have come and gone*  ....

Bluebirds under the farm bell
Rejoicing in morning rain , relaxing
for a spell , patiently awaiting their
turn to sing a tale , sailing from house
to cover on the minute without fail

Gray squirrels working the oak leaves
Busy , busy bees , up and down
the hardwood , jumping from tree
to tree , filling their tummy's with
acorns in the sun drenched canopy

Mr. Roseberry's smithing a plow
Greasing his tractor , counting his cows
Milling corn to feed his chicks
Thrashing creek cane and filling the
molasses licks* ...

You are the murmuring birds that grace my line of sight
Brown eyes that ease the night
The Spring lambs that warm my heart
Auburn silk tresses , blue forget- me -nots
You are the very instant the sun breaks the morning brume
The stained glass sky in my Autumn afternoon
My question , my seduction , my reason
My trail , my expression , my Summer season* ...

One of these days I'll become a Jay
I'll bathe in Port Lake everyday
I'll command the fencerow with early morning
original song
Feed on blackberries and pine nuts the whole
day long
I'll nap in Live Oaks whenever I wish
I'll turn Crape Myrtles into my evening niche* ...

Spider silk is alive , clinging to window frames on blustery air
as cold rain strips the trembling trees bare
The ever changing colors of November render thoughts free falling and
untethered , emotions under control by impatient winter weather
Dancing vortices , colored parachutes vying for the surety
of the uncertain earth* ...

Sorry is a magical eraser stored like a bullet
in a gun belt* ...

Adhesive memories with Sisyphean love
Where pasture , paddock and woodland divide
Where hickory trees have been carved with-
Old Timer pocket knives
Afternoon walks through soybean , corn and
sorghum , where the sound and colors of dusk are like
no other* ..

From South River Hill the lights of Alabama shone
Beside a meandering Chattahoochee I once stood alone
To catch sight of a river dancer or skip a stone
To catch a new stars arrival , the howl of a wildcat or
a glimpse of the orange setting sun
Her beauty effervesced , brown waters teased the
muddy banks , an Egret flew low overhead , the calm
surface echoed smallmouth feeding explosions
Becalmed riverwoods silvered in the coming night
Nocturnal songsters peaked on cue
The red clay trail home illuminated , voices of bobwhite quail serenading , the braying of beagles at the hillside , the alarm call of Embden Geese gathering at the whitewood fence line* ..

Scarlet shapes have found their resting place
among brunette , dew shined parcels
Golden rays speckle broomsage runways
through White Pine sentries
Country homes are entertaining with family
and chimney fires , wine and memories
Spice and sweet tea , pecan pie and dressing
Babes patter wooden floors , hearths crackle
Seasoned oak gently fills a candlelit banquet
A moment to gather and be thankful* ...

The 'living' consume the 'living'
Ergo , the mountains are the truest compassionate entities

Companion streams-(political parties)  gathered
Unorganized sidewalk detritus-(thought) was overwhelmed
The dam suddenly failed
Those downstream were compelled -
to leave , their homes bursted at the seams
Like a ravenous monster the new river obliterated and conquered
The lay of the land (Constitution) was remade , suddenly the land leveled and the current (revolution) quietly withered away
The new embankment- (martial law) held the waters , a reservoir-(body politic) was born with the same cursed fate* ....

Just as snow is doomed in the heated light of day
The ******* is in peril with flooding rain
When screen porches collect flying roaches
just before the storm approaches you will know
Red grip impressions on tender wrist ,
writing objective poetry with a pain killer twist
You will know before I go
You will know* ....

A dusty museum with broken windows
Cobwebs hang from open doorways , unread
books lie shadowed , wood floors echo timid
footsteps down musty hallways
Bureaus retain their final occupations , curtains -
flap in wind directed obligation
Structures audibly strain and wince
Period light fixtures swing in defiance
A Bible bookmarked at Revelations
Chimney fires are frozen in time , memory becomes a brief walk through the ancient sublime* ...

Take flight yellow Moon from west to east
Tint this sleepy town as you please
Turn ramshackle eyesores into haunted houses
Blight avenues into golden hallways
Rusted train tracks become shining silver trails
Dank , foggy horizons turn to mighty Windjammer sails* ...

Do come by and visit for awhile
To see the frost tinted wild grass reflections -
across this placid pond
Hunter bass breaking the surface at Dawn
To receive natures community at every turn
alone , eyes locked in Heavens blue window* ...

A storyteller wears a denim blue blouse with a caramel , marigold apron
Her children wonder aloud ,  seeking eye contact , relishing her approval
Exploring leaf strewn trails through forested countryside apartments
Bearing joy constrained with certain peace beside the wildflower,  carpeted alluvial shoreline* ...

I recall quite accurately the day that I died
I caught a mirthful conversation between sibling
and parent on how ugly I was
It was in April around two o'clock on a Saturday
Other children were playing
I chose to stay upstairs , confined to my bed
That very day the music claimed my head
It filtered the good and the bad
The sad turns to song
'The wrong' settled in my fingers
Digits struck strings , crimson melody left the body
The hate trapped in sound mercifully went away
It continues to do so to this very day* ..

Shivering tree incantations incite the first Wren-song of the
morn
Long Pines fulcrum to touch dawns blue ceiling
Dales become sun-washed and quite talkative
Sharing the new day with rolling fields , Robin harper romantics
With the antics of fledgling flyers , ground squirrel , vivid swirling leaf
Tantric Chestnut providers , yellow
dancer Oaks , copper vistas reaching for
the curve of earth
Windsong , celebration , dutiful
Crescendo , becoming , vibrato
Upper tier , kinetic allegories receiving
life's opening breath* ...

These sugar cube folk , cowering at the thought of rain .. I've repartee for every hailstone a storm cloud might contain* ...

Autumn gels come to life with November
Sun , with a bluesy sky , with Sycamore mannequins
Red shapes parachuting into brown , cool weather
grass
I'm wearing my brown hooded coat once again
Reading bubble gum cartoons perched on a granite
retaining wall , Mother calling her kids to lunch
Leaving black Hush Puppies at the front door
Tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches , butterscotch
pudding , midday naps
Awakened by the swirling wind of Fall , with cobalt blue canopy and
hardwood giants* ...

Material items in black window reflection
The day under scrutiny , beleaguered mind correction
My heart's beating four times for every tick -
of the clock , wearing boxers and black socks
Spending imaginary lottery winnings
Helping everyone I see , then such -
daydreams return to bewildered me
Chugging cold coffee
Airing my days with poetry
Throwing paper airplanes against the wind
Making amends to fictitious friends
Looking for a high in a medicine cabinet
Scoring music , feeding old habits* ...

They think I'm happy because I whistle
Label me naive because I sing to myself sometimes
Stupid ******* people* ..

I see a rough hombre in my coffee
He's scarred from a ticket to hell -
but somehow lived to tell tall tales
Takes a lot of work to muster 250 pounds in a six
foot three frame
I'm doing pretty **** good for fifty three
I have to say*..

Pretty birds sing away pain
An old friend this evening returns once again
Shadows of the coming night -
are beautiful along the open plain
The dust of hard labor quelled by a gentle rain
I say Hallelujah for the disappearing day  
Hallelujah , yes indeed* ....

My early mornings are akin to warm Carrot Cake
I consume them wolfishly then lick the plate* ..

If dilapidated barns could speak a dire warning they would teach
Hard Winters and meager survival , the mattock , the stubborn mule and the King James Bible ..Tending fields long before sunrise , the smoke of field fires well into night , gathering to the clang of morning cattle , the prattle of laying hens , tolling of chain , the call of the anvil .. Drops of well water forming ripples
Do waves continue forever , do they return someday to reconnect with
their maker , wood buildings become footnotes in history physically entombed in past thought turned to laden misery , the farm has changed since we slipped away , now old barns seem to search for a master like a canine stray , Oaks are now devoid of their cover  , roots struggling for their freedom today , windswept leaves forging legions
An attempt to secure the forest floor , pinestraw , bracht , needle and twig called to war
Annihilated by the decomposers borne of wind , rain and soil
The breakdown of her subjects at the sword of power , the butchers of freewill and reason doth carouse  
Withered , stained monuments are collecting moss , crumbling like old barns and field houses* ...

Pools of rainwater become utopian portals
Sunny sunshine is a quiet confidante from beneath the Weeping Willow
The sky illustrates by the minute with colors of silver , blue and gold
Bluebirds wrote a song for us
We lay wind-washed among fair field flowers
Afternoon mellow , whispered articulate -
modes of eternity , the miracle of love unfolding
The evening faces twilight as a beautiful bride
Swan song , Mourning dove ballads , mercurial
fading daytime* ....

I've music outside my door
Emotional tones that touch the soul
Symphonies of light and song ,
piedmont melodies to mull over ,
heavenly voices resonating o'er fields of
purple clover
Nights filled with the wonder of Lady November
Starlight , evening tinsel , a bold harvest Moon at the tip of tall Loblolly's to fondly remember
I've whippoorwills calling day to close
The smoldering leaves of Autumn to tickle my nose
A sturdy rocker , black coffee and dove call
Twilight miracles that lend faith and enthrall* ..

Solitary mornings along the maple avenue
Outer colors change , and so do I
Ground squirrels play a game of chance
with hawks at treetop level , the pious
hold their cards and bet the bank on forever
Acorns fall then roll down the concrete sidewalk ,
fully expecting to land in dirt
In tune with the Sparrows that seem to go out
of their way to maintain a secure distance from the
other birds
Gray sky refusing to rain , a smile concealing pain
Tiny mansions all look the same
Metropolitan moths circling the morning flame* ...

Barefoot and blue
Waiting for a waterbirds solemn return
Silently guided by a stiff windward call
to closure , my melancholy day in sunlit
exposure , from behind the clouds lie such
explosions , red eyes placed center stage ,
as would be thespians hide elephant red rage
Caramel colored , landlocked baptistry
Soak these tired feet , wash the salt from open
wounds , diluting memory and public affairs
Carry them to the bottom* ...

She's a smile
A warm June rain
A raspberry tea during a firefly show
A child's creative finger on a frosted window
The wonder of the first snow
The oak fire , the crackle and the glow* ...

I am red clay suffering the boots of men
Aged Pine in fear of the saw
The plight of Whitetails in the Winter hunt
September Dove escaping the shotgun
Deforested back country robbed of fertile layer
The cold domestic animal showing unconditional -
love before their slayer
A tear for the meek
A blanket for the weak
We are every person sleeping in a car
The stars blocked by city lights
The diesel engine roar
Technologies ******
We are the riddle , the animal superior , changelings in denial
The True Killers* ...

A gloveless welder will one day suffer a burn
A carpenter in the rain awaits his turn for a blackened nail
The careless goat herder will soon receive the wrath of the buck
The citizen too busy to vote garners the scorn of an elected schmuck* ...

The whimsical shipwreck at the bottom
of the aquarium
Toiling among the plastic starfish in
delirium
A snotty game of five card stud with
y'r maker , a stray bit of pepper trapped in
the salt shaker
A clingy acquaintance , a touchy boss , young girls
in risqué clothing wearing lip gloss
O my how the time disappears
We measure the past with decades instead of years
Amble around with aching feet as the hurried fly
by on busy streets
Window shop the same old bazaars
Tucked away come evening in our
little jars* ...

At the Roseberry Farm arbor where
Rhode Island Reds continually determine
the pecking order
Where spearpoint spurred roosters -
do honest battle in the name of the governed
A place where the continuity of the flock , respect ,
dignity and grace are treasured
The well being of all measured
Where the reign of Kings are subject to the congregations
pleasure* ...

We are clay in the hands of Donatello
Waiting for our role
With hopes of one day becoming whole
To receive knowledge voraciously and to grow
To harden and weather in Summer sun
To serve as a reminder for our future
sons
To embody them with the spirit to carry on* ....

Copious birdsong with candor along the windward lake shoreline
Natures electricity demanding conduit at the forest divide
Chipper 'Wrensong' , curious Ravens speak of the morn , rollicking gray tree barkers , southbound 'honkers' ride the blind of Autumn sun , diamond piedmont dew dabbled with new-day spices of black pepper , sage and English tea cinnamon
Brown cathead biscuits , warm sorghum syrup and peach butter breakfast
Cattle call bell tones crack the solitude , the thunder of hooves embellish the shine of rolling pasture , of thick spearmint beside gravel roads , steam collecting along quiet pecan groves , o'er fertile fields at rest

Give me a cold , crisp cranberry juice with -
a Gulf of Mexico evening view
Mary Ellen's hand in mine
A moment to treasure for all time* ...

Angels reveal their presence disguised as butterflies -
on the beach , a sand dollar at our feet                                                             ­     Heavens nighttime bouquet of radiant stars , the first ray of morning sun touching our young hearts  
The living canvass of ocean brushed anew
each moment
The curious shorebirds that hover above us* ..

A touch of morning sun painting the clouds , searching for dolphins , marveling aloud
Turquoise views sprinkled with gold , busy sandpipers , wind driven gulls
The perfume of the ocean , a masterwork in vivid motion* ....

A million sparkling movements every second
We gaze openly from whence we came in -
quiet reverence
For whom the mind rediscovers is a true
lover , to abide in perpetuity captivated in shore song and ambergris , our souls one day returned to the awaiting sea* ..

A loners trail is slowly washed away ,
yet sometimes even the private have their
holiday
Bare feet covered in warm sand , dressed
for sheer comfort , walking the edge of
blue ocean with no place to be
Picturesque sea , gathering gulls , sailing brown
pelicans , forever horizon , white sugar revelry
Clarity returning in waves , morning cloud canopies
corrected in brash , cresting sunshine

A blue meridian gulf sunset lifts the veil of Venus beside a pearl Moon
Red beacons search far out to sea with amber harbor lights panning the white , wailing , crystalline oceanside , revealing her nighttime ferocity* ...

Receiving the faded afternoon call of salted , emerald tide
Awaiting the first star of the flush maritime night* ..

The game of hurt and apologize has no foreseeable end
Political , corporate , media manipulators will continue to maim and **** while begging forgiveness until all their detractors are dead