Take a country pond , transform it into the raging North Atlantic
Make a curled leaf riding its surface the doomed Titanic
A Reed is a Sorcerers wand in the right hand
A rock becomes a shooting star hurtling into the ocean
Walk home through cotton fields filled with surprise
The house , a Castle waiting for the King or Queen to arrive

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* ...

The bell tower announces each hour
The town center inhabitants rush through an early lunch ,
a gaggle of blackbirds inhabit a tiny forested
patch containing statues , flowers and iron
benches , pigeons work the sidewalks in search of a
quick brunch
Her elders search morning papers with quick smiles
and "how do you do's"
This masterpiece of city squares rest at the end of converging busy avenues , with period brick shoppes and tidy store fronts , swanky
restaurants and courthouse patrons , drug stores , trinket parlors
and hand lettered windows
Gossip , breaking news and metro innuendo pass from ear to ear
Parking meter constables , free magazine stands , a **** and span
county seat add a certain rote of good cheer to southern suburbia ,
she's quickly turning from lunch mode to all business , she's a busy bee , the Queen of the Southern Crescent in royal splendor , the pride of the county and her gracious members* ...

Quiet evening on the porch . Explosions in the distance , the  soldiers are getting small , incoming ! Attention subjugated from intense light to the west ! It's storming in Alabama tonight ! I'm sure it is ! The insects , mesmerized by porch light , are growing in numbers , catapulted East by violent winds , the prequel to our own battle with Thor and his army ! An entire Division , preceded by artillery , wave after wave ! Refugees have flooded the screen in rear combat operations tonight , confused , terrified faces are flashing before my very eyes ! Sergeants are screaming commands on both sides of the road as the skirmish recedes !  Rain ... Puddles .. At six a.m. as the fog begins to lift , siren of whippoorwills , ambulances rush forward to gather the dead , the toy soldiers have bled all they can ..Their really just plastic anyway ! Play things , hallucinations , flashbacks , whatever word conjures , terminates repetitive mind games , conflict witnessed many years ago , committed to endless replay , delivered by a Summer storm from Alabama last night !

I was using the lakeside to gain control
of my thoughts but it was puppeteering me all along
The pond needed a rock at the bottom so
I skipped one out to the center
The shore needed a tiny depression so my boot
gladly relented
A conductor was needed to gracefully quiet
the crickets so the bullfrogs solo could be heard
This beautiful body of water wrote and performed its own
story as I studiously jotted down every word* ..

A vagabond traveller , walking the rails of Columbus
on foot again through Manchester and points north
Cowered in the dark night , filled with an air of dignity ,    
determination and resolve in the broad daylight ..
Nobody wants to stop , not even a second glance ,
their just afraid of seeing themselves maybe , a paycheck
away from becoming indigent possibly ...
'Out of medicine , nourished by my own flesh ,
a once promised son turned wrinkled vagrant , a pilgrim escaping the Oligarchy America I once defended ..'

Silver nighttime clouds laced in amber trim
A dabble of Moonshine with twinkling gems
Caroling Thrushes tell of mirth and good season
The 'Song of Showers' speak as a thousand carillons with good reason
Twitch'n vane , twixt north then east ,
'tis the call of uncertain September breeze* ...

Pintos and cornbread with a dab of pepper jelly
Walt Whitman poetry from a favorite chair
Hazelnut coffee with rousing jazz guitar ,
eating Manzanilla olives straight out of the jar
Rhyme and verse , raising the daily bar of affection
for Mary Ellen , walking the wood-line at night
"Chillin' in the vehicle of quietude*" ....

Salty boiled peanuts , hot black coffee
and Aristotle ..

Cars skip pass the Mill Road this cloudy afternoon ,
screaming by like volunteer Firemen heading to a field afire ,
running like the Governor has come to town , like a farmer struck oil
with his tractor plow ... You folks are speeding in vain , for their will be no escaping the rain , regardless of what you may have under the hood ,
or what the talking head on Tv has told you ... A rainy , early afternoon in February in this part of the world means showers the remainder of the day , you can rest assured ....

People are throwing around 'great' & 'sorry' like empty gum wrappers ..

Like flint sparked pine straw in the month
of July
The confluence of cascading streams at
Spring storms epilogue
A course of brilliant sunshine at the break
in the clouds

I was taught to understand the wail of Jones and Owens -
The cry of the fiddle , Hank telling it right ,
the Opry on Saturday night
The necessity of a front porch
Steel toed boots , sun tea and sassafras root                                             A late night swing for two 'neath a bustling oak
Coonhound companions and old school-
blokes
We learned to catch our own minnows 'n
fry our own slabs
Sunday dinners turned into afternoon naps
Grief and gain walked hand in hand
Someday my body's corruption will be turned to sand
Left to blow across this hallowed land ...

One eye open , in the pill box , tantamount to tugging on Mothers robe , trigging yet needing recognition , laying down suppressive fire for the entire division , marching through enemy lines , planes at treetop level make the ground shudder , Rottweiler at my bed won't leave me be , shadows growing larger , R.E.M. sleep . Both eyes open , panning into the tree line , five pills to choke down , a long days travel , trying to make it  until Noon , meet the combat medic , pick up fresh chemical to cure a soldiers blues .. Across the water a heron monitors the surface , hours on end without movement , stoic and proud or frozen with fear just like me !

Lying on a squeaky single mattress . Security light from outside , shining in a guest bedroom . No real view . Insomnia .. Good morning anxiety ! Walk lightly across wood flooring .. My four a.m. decision ....Micro-wave a cold cup of coffee from last night ... A bowl of Raisin Bran...Get the day started ...

Fingertips leave smoky impressions
on a cold window
Frost and sunshine divide the land
Brown eyed Zoraetta has long since
become a widow
Only an occasional Cardinal will
cause her to think of him out loud today
The Lantern of God greets and warms her
A morning salvo of audible thanks and reserved laughter
Bible workbooks , coffee with a bookmark from a
granddaughter in her busy hands
Rocking in perfect time , courtesy for passersby
Planning for a 'beautiful Wednesday' once again* ...

Indigo ceilings that shroud juniper and shamrock greens ,
Quiet country roads engrave fields of sorghum and hay , a bejeweled rolling piedmont in full Autumn splendor .. Orange sunsets embrace migrating waterfowl performing life melodies , Bobwhite quail and Killdeer profess the close of day ..

Shelley Baker , how have you been
My first crush at the tender age of ten
I still see your Brownie uniform
at a distant busstop
When we first sat together my jaw dropped
I watched you giggle with your girlfriends
in the lunch room , knowing full well that our
romance was through
Trees in the old neighborhood still bear
R , W , S and B , chalk on Orly Terrace has long
since disappeared
Two bluebirds reminded me of our tumultuous
two days , sharing candy , simple ways* ..

Two o'clock shower
Steamy asphalt avenues
Songbirds criss- cross wetted grass-
and June wildflowers
Hedgerows reveal their hidden diamonds
Rain drop ballads
Ditches have become a churning-
river deep in some faraway jungle
Explorers fighting to stay afloat
Longing for home
Caterpillars trying to avoid the Thrashers
Mother Bluebirds leery of a ****** high-
above
Shimmering glass pastures beckon famished dove ..

A Green Anole has got it going on
Enjoying the afternoon sun and bothering-
no one
Blending with the grass trying hard not
to be discovered
Little green lizard , we've a lot in common !

Vultures sitting on the fence while I work ..Is something dead or should I be concerned ? Are the ******* waiting on me to croak or is this a routine stop for the committee , they've zero pity for man or beast , shriek as they selfishly eat , lay around all day amongst the trees , dine on dung and all manner of vile concoctions , circle the Noon Sun for their rotted reward ..
Politicians setting on their butts while I work .. Do you understand my plight ? Are you able to afford true concern ? Your in my face like you'd love to help but your only after a photo op ! Lay around the capital like nobility , creating laws that stifle men like me , 'yak' in front of the camera with crocodile tears , getting zero done year after year !

Give them guns , have them come back
tortured , depressed and disabled
Label them heroes , pay no regard to their
high suicide rates , give them hometown
parades and let them fend for themselves
in the American rat race
Vietnam Part II is being played out for all to see                                                    
via the internet , laptops have replaced Walter Cronkite ,
Arlington is slowly being filled week after week
Color guards bring cheers at sporting events , our
young people are flatlining on our countries streets
A painful Presidential election is coming our way ,
tear gas and rubber bullets on Cleveland's streets ,
The violence will spread from city to city
Watch with fear as 1969 plays out once again

Shock and offend* ...

White Sapphire waves ...
The Moons Opal servant roars
into eventide ..
Candlelight beacons service the unlocked waters ,
shadow figures disappear into night ...

Tybee , the Masters sonata of wind , crashing wave , sand and tide , Alpha and Omega of rippling current , mighty Savannah River completes her southern journey here .. As Sailor , ****** and maritime entrepreneur , embark , having left the security of her shore into the mighty , unforgiving Atlantic , her Lighthouse , a living testament to sacrifice , safe return to port as well as those forever lost at sea

Tye recalls the reflections of Autumn
Heavens mottled blues , windswept cattle-
ponds , dancing grass sprinkled with wildflowers-
of every size and color , morning glory sun shower
The inspiration of late November , bare hardwoods crowned
in mistletoe , fiery sunsets , gravel byways , meandering brooks ,
braying country hounds , storm racked aerials ...

Quick sips from Port Lake
The blackberry feast of Summer
Aromatic pine , cool downy carpets of-
springtide hay
Dragonflies whirl then glide to earth
The afternoon drummers of Spring
The Dance of the Hedgerows
Curtains of life sweep the genteel trees , filling every plain
A culled pasture receiving her churning sustenance
Ra's rain song so delivered ...

She is a child holding artwork with stick-
figurines , crimson roses and smiling sunshine
Tye lies still like a portrait to be before bounding away from-
tree to tree , bathed in creations gleam , loving
musical phrases , industrious and free ...

And a sense of calm fell upon me as a towering vortex of cloud
filled my view of earthen dusk ..

Sunlight on hedgerow
No one attends your morning
show
Red , marigold and brown
Beige and shiny black
Thou art a treasure to the eye
yet fools turn their backs
An entwined miracle teeming
with life , shimmering in new day light
Red tip and 'suckle , chickadee and sparrow
Green windjammer sheets filling me to
the marrow , stoic within the windy confusion
of February , inquisitive and refreshed
Newly aware* ...

Wear your brogans sonny boy
as your trompin' round -
this here creek lest a gator
snapper peers with a hankering for ya feet* ...
A sprinkle o' garlic on dem
liver's will surely bring the
muddies to the top o' the river
..
If the cattle's moving
dem shellcrackers are a
schoolin'
When the moon is'a bright
'n white dem crappies will
hit all night ..

Proudly self diagnosed as non compos mentis  , the gallivanting hermetic of Hill Country , walking barefoot this evening , scantly clad ,  joyfully whistling beneath astonishing skies of blue , fields of clover , clear running creeks , copious woodland greenery ! A fickle , fanatical , fervent lover of every creature the forest has to offer ! Rolling hill , pasture and homestead , Wood duck , blue jay , otter and crawdad ! Every rooster , wild turkey and dairy cow ! A boisterous , benevolent , painfully reverent disciple of Earth and sky , lover of cascading brooks , placid lakes , the cool breeze , bumblebees and centipedes , bobcats and chickadees ..

My Eight Pathways to the Light , at war with better judgment ! For in the sewer , blood is up to the manhole cover !  The constable with a body camera , a machine gun set to automatic , firing into the tall grass , hollow points seeking the invisible dissident ! Your a suspect , the cities most wanted man , convicted by the press , prima facie evidence now for a volley of bullets , gunned down on a city street ! Reduced to fly ridden meat . Larvae flee to be reborn ! Fluid . Hosed off the boulevard , a tributary seeking an underground river beneath a violent city !

The Bald Eagle , majestic symbol of our great land , truly a site to behold flying high above our mighty Republic , spanning blue water , cornfields , bustling cities , mountain and valley  , It is the Horse , however , like the common man and woman , that made this country great with hard labor , tireless devotion in the cause of Liberty and diligence in uncertain times ...

Moonlight pantomime , tempestuous appointments beg fruition , carnal figurines performing agin searing , thin ambient air in misted flesh
Parched lovers recompensed , wailing secret vows , clarity a slave to confusion , accentuation , shameless surrender* ....

A birds-eye view of Hill Country bound
for my celestial reservation will most
certainly create unbridled hesitation* ...

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*..

Wind chimes jingling
North gales singing
Evergreens swaying
Bob Jitters misbehaving

Warming the hives
Shoveling the drive
Tapping a maple
Hot cakes on the table

A stone across the river
The sound of a smith in winter
Skates on the mill pond
Hoecake in the courtyard

Debris on the roadway
Leaves in the pond
Trash stifling storm drains
A foolish marriage leaving pain
Candy apple autumn
Hot chocolate winter
The alluring smoke of spring barbecuers  
The 'goats of love gone astray' turning
on skewers

Warm coffee and dates on a-
wintry winding , mountain lane , blackberry etchings , trembling firs shroud morning trains , first day lit lanes peek through blue panes ..
Honkers in hollers beside a rumbling 76 beacon gripped-
in the perfume of turned sorghum , rusty brooks beside a -
leaf laden lot , peanuts swirl their delicious dance-
in a cast iron *** ..
Standing at her cue , locked in-
a spiritual , bankside daydream , Marny blue , butterscotch Kathryn-
wintergreen Gert and Sweetgum Zoey weathervanes ..
A cloak and dagger scheme with tall shadows ,
empty pecan trees and vivid bellicose themes ,
foggy hillside scenes , where hope and implausibility -
convene to do battle with todays pipe dreams  ...

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 pitiful world is painted with streaks of gray , with blackness
from tear drops in laden skylight , from clocks that freeze
time on bewildering , blue days
People are laughing at my infirmity , collecting cash
at my expense , mocking my every move , dilating
the past , bearing canine incisors and fangs , freezing me in my tracks* ....

When offered chocolate grab as much
as one hand can hold
Drink fine liquor till it's all gone
Bask in sunshine all day until it hops over the
horizon
Eat the dewberries of summer without
reservation , make room for good cheese ,
good wine and hot buttered bread on every
occasion
Sample the perfume of every rose in the garden
Take hot baths with Peppermint tea and shortbread
cookies , do it with music blaring , do it often* ...

Clip clop go rain drops from rooftops
Splashing into clear pools in a
foggy window backdrop
Willow parasols drip drop -
Monday morning rain
Draw a smiling Sun on a window pane* .

Her ways are of the seashore prior to dawn , let her draw you into the light of day

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* ....

Each drop of rain has been programmed with
exact coordinates from which to strike land
The direction of the wind rehearsed from a
remote corner of Earth
The sun signs off daily on lucky parcels that will bask in its
love
Every wrinkle in the mirror planned in advance
A lavatory faucet stream explosion where it meets
porcelain
Small rivers hurdle down cabinets retrieving dust ,
bound for trim moulding , another universe now forming
The trimmed end of a hair lying on the floor , the residents are attempting to contact the opposite end for answers , for surety of purpose , to prove they're not alone

Musical scores tend to form patterns -
and are quite logical
The time between each note is the separation -
point between rudimentary composer and genius ....

A traitor cloaked in the cloth
of family is a monster indeed

Black and white television was a world
all its own , easy to walk away from ,
devoid of the color red quite common in
'68 , protesters beaten on the streets , men
of peace slain pursuing their dream , straw huts
set ablaze , the flash of cannon and martyrdom , annihilation
Blood was the same color as asphalt
The starving people of the world were addressed-
right after they were photographed
We were different from all the other countries
So we were taught* ...

We're beautiful fools
For the true religion is love prophesied
by countless messengers* ...

We are the afternoon wilted curcurbits  , leaves drawn and froward ,
pining for evening thundershowers , emboldened , tempting a watery death with blind ambition
Yet ,  we are also creativity trapped in religious admonition
Miracles discombobulated , manipulated
Named , taught , placed on a board with our heads facing the floor
Following a pre-plotted map with the robotic horde* ...