the sharpening steel
slid across blackened blade
in rhythm like rapid
even breaths
in the dark
leaving a thread
of gleaming silk
at its edge
new, polished, perfect
the only aspect
of a life detested
this had
purpose and value
making order of chaos
erasing those
imperfections too minor
for the eye to find,
work day assaults
from the sinews
of soft animal flesh
Blood, death' s smell
ever sating nostrils
and under nails
though scrubbed white
at closing time.

My first lines dropped to draw up buckets
Of the sludge flooded to mind
Thus unfettered, to be normal again,
A sin only temporary.
But as time passes,
Thoughts emptied,
I find the well continues to fill
And the water, still black
Quite complementary

Drunk from words poured over ice
melting in our empty glasses;
giddy as children discovering passion
for the first time,
in a kiss under
warm summer's rain -
we elated in wetness
given to clothing and dried lips
yet still held it secret
'lest in telling it might end,
life become ordinary again.

Poverty strummed weary bodies
with cold, bony fingers
flesh quivered its rhythm
as they sat at the table
drinking powdered breaths
and eating light cut in slivers

cloaked hope was preserved
in an emptied jelly jar,
safe, stowed behind old coats
warming hooks in the closet

the seed meant for a summer
when water fell freely
if minds would remember
where it was hidden

In last eve's dream
We lay amid tall grass
Aside slow stream,
Share wine again
From one stemmed glass
Press lips, red stained
Ever avow our tomorrows.
But sun soon comes
Day demanding chores
Reverie must rest undone,
Mind mask its sorrows.
Pages once torn
And cast to wind
That new stories could form
Still flutter back in
To sweeten dark nights
Still real, my secrets

I'm getting old;
lest I forget, the mirror's always there,
reminder in grays
and new wrinkles to start the day,
hair since forgotten to behave.

Bold hearted youth,
scrapping in dark alleys
after bars closed,
left it's marks and scars
with sins to be atoned, too;

Broken heart remembered,
even as initials carved
into bark of thick skin
fade from being embarrassing
because that pain
never really healed inside.

And as close as old stars may arc
as they fly on by, they just go on by,
because clocks can't stop
and stardust moves much too fast
for an old man to grasp.

inside weeks now, first frost warmed off, a *** watered
but still sere; her leafless twigs stand here ... pointing accusingly

(she'd promised us limes someday)

hope's a careless gardener with deep roots
resurrection imagined, coaxed to new shoots, green flecks ... some sign

(and lime fruits some day)

or any season grander than aged bourbon and ginger ... sipped
the crystal decanter bides quietly with gilt china

(for our harvest of limes)

a dusty cabinet counts reasons in neat rows
plant and man await parting, those pursed lips of time

(and dream, both, of limes)

Spring brought this burst of life
Its colors now unseen at night
Blossoms, now shadows
Play symphonies of fragrance
That recall the morning
Robbing the moment with musing
Of beauty known earlier
When light danced here

The mind, for a moment, lost aim
Fooled by exciting air
To expect a return of day
Safely brought to reality
By an orange glow,
Inhaled curls of dulling smoke
Night has work to do
Still more tomorrow...

I started a poem to ease the grief
Of my mother's passing,
But couldn't get it right,
So quit for awhile.
Some things just are.
Pompous words didn't fill
The voids or voice loss.
I flew to, cavalry to rally
The Life in balance,
Grasping at wisps,
Woven hopes of sky
When she knew her purpose
Will of steel, and tired still
Of the battle
And I surrendered.
Don't know if I'll ever forget her smile
From the hospital bed
When last we said
"Good night, sleep tight...
Don't let the bed bugs bite"
Just like when I was a child
Tucked in for the night
And I remember my tears
When I turned out the light,
Said "Goodbye,
Be sweet, Mom."

I gave you the steel -
Hopes, thoughts, fears,
Reforged,
Honed to jagged spears,
Turned against the flesh
From which they were wrought.
But blood won't flow
From the piercings
Anymore.
The corpse, complaisant, yields
From a lifetime of wounds.
Those razor-edged words
Drained joy
Like the ******
Of a shattered wine glass
Once cut painful and red-
Nails pressed through skin -
We veiled those marks
From family and friends
While I learned to hide
Behind vacant eyes,
Mute lips,
Mind dreaming of water
Running from oily feathers
Off a duck
Imagining words were rain
And ears coated with
The magic stuff
That would shed the pain
If only I believed hard enough.
Tomorrow
I could find another smile,
Know
The world hadn't really changed
Much,
Find new words to alter
Anger to love.
How did psyche falter -
Those few unshed drops
In incidental increments or
By catastrophe,
A failure like a levee
Rupturing, leaving land awash -
Doesn't really matter.
Frame now basks in your cascade,
Absorbing and accepting,
Soul long lost now wandering
Wondering when will body follow,
Missing the mate with whom to share
That steel from which love
Should be made.

Storms still fly inside,
Dark nights haunt
Alight only in
October's looming moon.
Promises, expectations
Longings -
Long ago
The lies
Became my lives
Made real
By masks worn to hide
The holes left behind
What should have been.
Buoyed in desperate, pathetic
Hopes that some ethereal strand
Still exists to connect
Like timeless stars we see at night
Can forever link
One to a lover
Despite distance.
If you'd just look up,
See what I see, too
We could be one
Again, then.

Did I care then, were they
Real, those stories
About some other
I talked about,
Though hardly knew.
Saying aloud
"What a shame,
She was so young,"
Shook head
No feeling, really,
A window shopper.
Was it wife or mother
Touched, too, who
Finally made real
Life-choking fear,
Overwhelming dread of
Deathly growth
That was of them.
Proclaiming love through tears,
I cried all the long ride
To claim she that bore me
While at home new bride,
Yesterday learning
Sleep amidst my snores,
Burned, cold poison
Now swimming
In bruised veins
Free spirit aging
Before my eyes
All life lost childish gloss,
The delightful lightness
Youth should be allowed,
And I cursed God
How dare You, we were so young.

it's a wonderful day
to run away
watch codes echo
in window glass,
flashes in flecks of sunlight
as clouds and trees pass,
the encrypted secrets
only stars will ever know

dust lies still
at the edge of the road
where once we traced our names,
awaiting wind to blow,
erase us,
cover old shoes
we’d left behind

When night came to end this day
The heat of noon's sun
Still warmed the stoop,
Squeals of children at play
Silenced before blue glowing tube.
A mind's check list of chores done

Recalled the nagging ones left
While a moth dancing in the light
Cast a shadow on the wall
A display that would cost his life
Still, braved heat with dogged will
'Till overcome, dropped from sight

Burned in another flame
Thoughts of love long away
Days dancing a lone waltz
Man and moth flit the same
Now sit and await the stars
When night comes to end this day

Wondrous passion, in fury found
manic strokes of oil
never thick enough to cover
burning doubts that cloud
the soul of genius;
we merely ponder
that which angels
finally plundered,
lingering over lunch of crumbs
left aside his table turned over,
wondering why he never
loved himself as much as we avow,
now grasping at tendrils stars leave
as they fall from his sky

Autumn's hedges weep blood again, the eternal mystery of red leaves confounding reason, protecting and surrounding us either in gentle beauty or concealed sorrows we never knew.  Theories of our own existences are proved certainties only by the imprecision of tears as we've lived.  Rage the year. The dead season, still, nears; we too, should paint it anew in bold color and embrace it without fear.

The sword,
An object of beauty
While mildly
Set over mantle
Displayed, idle
And accepted
'Till smeared red in the deed
For which its creator deemed
For it.
We forget the perfect
Flame from which it was forged,
Cursing creation for our failure
To understand His purpose,
Faces stained with disdain
For what was His will.

What's the sound a rain drop makes
When it oozes from cracked plaster,
Splashing to wood at my floor
Wetting the paper and last week's

Now mostly finished crossword,
Distracting from latest distraction
Of some unread lines written
To marry ideas too absurd -

Clocks that can run backward, or
Knowing just when and where
In infinity one should stare
To see a shooting star soar

Pen bleeds from neat squares,
But with days left to dry
I could give it another try
Or perhaps use it now to
Sop up a puddle by the chair,

Nor will newest words ever be heard
I should listen to life that matters
These drips of dreams
Are drowned in inky water,
Sodden pages leave thoughts too blurred

Morning woke to a sky cloaked in white
as mist rose, smoky, from snow
now shedding its innocence
for smoldering, bent cigarettes
left to extinguish themselves overnight

Infinite blue was lost under cover,
down shroud erasing each page
of tales that reveries replayed,
myths of forever and love
rubbed away in a new day's color

Haze bound dreamers by cords of reason,  
who surrendered their searches
in surges of x-rays weighed
for presence of a life’s tuned waves
to prove existence an ancient season

Like a fragrance they vaguely remember,
confusing a vapor trace  
painted nostalgic - the face,
arching brow, how soft her hand -
and wished magic had lasted one more hour

Lacy steel over black water -
A boy once wondered
If it was a way over
Or a step closer
To soul-lulling sleeping

A launch to lose
Wrenching torments within
A rain-swelled flow of
Dark currents to wash
When other remedies had failed

But warm water laughed
She rushed through open skin
Easing weeping wounds
And, leaving scars for tomorrows,
Returned the repaired to surface

To see the dim haze of street lights
And maybe the moon in fog again,
To fight to find a handhold
Up over the steep bank
Soggy shoes spoke
All the way
Home

Smoke rose from a cigarette,
Broken in passing breeze
Began to dissipate,
Vanishing but for a memory
It had once lingered there
To sully spring's air.
Existence still transient,
As mind will cast away
This trivia as passing of the day.
What was becomes nothing.
Shadows are for moments,
Specters of light not there,
So as emotions profound,
Sounds of beloved voices
Once sweetening time
Cease to be when forgotten.

i'm realizing
life's now free from
pointed pens and sharp knives,
so i don't need to hide them anymore
i've brought the dog inside and don't sweep floors

the kitchen is for cooking food again

i've rearranged fleeting emotion with teaspoons of random words
found in our rain gutter among rotted leaves
i'd meant to clean away last winter
and hope you like them ... there's
a sweetness in decay

remember the cascades
of water, then snow that rippled over the brim?

no

we were so alone,
waiting for an end
you flat in bed, hairless, angry, confused;
me at your window
staring at blue light from distant windows,
strangers' homes in which i'd always found refuge
where you will always be.

I still stand here,
though terrified of falling.
slight breezes amplify,
becoming gusts to the mind;
slight sways to tumults,
upsets threatening demise.
remembering advice
of sage and wise -
never look down
when perched up so high.
pretenders will lie,
saying heart beats speed,
pounding in ear, but fear
homes in there.
it slows, knows
every pulse, a potential push
like butterfly tempest
to certain death
waiting below.
fingers freeze, unable to let go
anything steady
'till eyes fix to blue sky above.
precarious positions
feel a lot like love.

ink flows dull, now, on paper,
a tin tongue reciting
marks made leaden, and clouds threaten
to end dappled light here

even air breathed seems heavier,
breezes lost sweet scents
on descent from heaven,
bearing stale traces of  madness

things once destined to dance -
words, fluttering butterfly wings,
bodies of impossible fantasy -
stilled in trite fairy tale trances

awaiting touch some angel's lips,
fragrance wished from heaven sent
to reanimate brittle, nacred hearts,
like magic kisses of a princess.

life has always depended
for its existence on airs unseen;
souls' dance their passionate dreams,
only in waking finding reality ended.

furious cravings found birth
among songs sung by a siren -
I do, still, that distant voice search,
Imagining rare music was mine

Heaven's breath coalesced,
Mist forming ever larger silver
Pearls, learned their dances
From angels, whom they kissed
As they fell,
New gifts blessed
Of earth,
Moisture on mountains
At first.
Drops joined one another,
Rivulets fine as newborn locks
Gracing ancient rocks
Absorbing wisdom,
As they traced their faces,
Becoming a stream
Which grew, finding voices
That could laugh and make songs.
Finally a force,
Bursting forth from heights
Increased, and curious,
Embraced new land, meandered
Spreading compassion
To thirsty soil,
Beasts of burden and human;
Sharing with all souls,
Bearing, then nurturing life.
She formed slow pools
For children to play in,
Made a valley of green.
But all journeys which begin,
Must also find end.
So a stream, once rocking
Her shallow bed
Had aged,
Slow, yet ever deep.
Trees wept over her,
Hoping they might stop flow,
Slow time to stare forever
Into their reflections
In the peaceful surface -
Given only gentle kisses,
And soft goodbyes.
River gliding onward,
Called to new purpose.
Used and tired body
Committed finally to ocean.

hope's breath was spent-
broad shoulders wiped tears in
bruising pools, skin flayed raw
colored more lifeless gray
than black and blue in the mirror
amid clouds of nicotine blankets
their weakness hides beneath;

blood encrusted nostrils,
newly immune to floral smells,
told their ringing ears
which found sounds of acrid words
tolled loud and certain,
making children cry to hear them
like promises made but forgotten,
pillows framed aged eyes,
devil-weary, blurred furrows
in which to sow sorrows

saccharine love bound,
secured, in smoky rings
of siren song’s early death -
for a moment, soul fled flesh,
where even soft heart
felt dark, strangled in
its tangled vessels,
left for dead, to glimpse
an imagined pulse of brilliance
its refuge for the morrow,
as that  anticipation’s
life’s only worthy pain

Bones steeped in storms
Feel them coming,
Past terrors remembered
In recesses of marrow.
There's no safety
Behind stone walls of homes, either;
Nor compassion for tears of children
Nor weary backs of old men
Who try to protect them.
Little ones hide fears in the cellar
Or deep in down pillows,
Drowning howling to low murmurs
While weary souls stare into eyes
Of the devil, bracing for battles
Never won, but survived
'Till sun shines once more,
Sweeping up pieces of life
As always, come morning,
When smiles and breakfast
Hide destruction
Of the night before.

Back to the closet to await another year
The black lapel of my jacket
Sparkled with lost glitter
From a little girl's ball gown
A thousand stars in a night sky
I'll not brush them off
Just yet
So to remember tomorrow
Joy in the eyes of my little angel
And that I was a prince once

It was new
That thing
I had to do,
Planned months.
Then, tears didn't come
To ease old memories.
Not for lack of loss
Nor sadness.
The deadness, maybe,
Made smiles and crying
Seem child's pursuits.
At dawn, sun was drawn
Over rippled sea
No warm glow -
Harsh white across water
Sand scattered
Bared legs stood
Heads bowed
Silence
It was new to us
When we took the stage
Knee-deep in waves
Man and box of ash
Too empty to explain
The life's work.
It didn't seem fair
But it was
Opened.
Winds calmly noted
To protect company's
Sensitivity
Of backlash
From what they
Once loved.
I was surprised,
The speed
Contents joined
Salty currents,
Not lingering a last look.
Finally released
My body shook,
Her child.

This finger still remembers
The path it once traced
Upon that brow
Memories of a face
Long ago stifled,
The dead body
Buried deep
Yet years' muck,
Accumulated debts
And life's debris
Washed away in a dream
I forgot to forget
When morning's light
Seeped through the blind
A mind now haunted by
The lovely ghost
Of the face I see in a photo
The smile, sweet smelling hair, now
As vivid as the day we first
Danced

Sadly, Kiddo, that's what's called life.
There really aren't fresh starts for day-to-day strife
just different street names to remember
(or not, as as the old ones, I find, are usually much better)

Bills, work or chores are always the same
Laundry, dishes, mopping the floors,
the phone, electric or price for gas -
don't care where you live
or that you're dragging your ***

The rent or a mortgage, unpaid, are no different;
tires, brand new or
used from the dump "down'a way,"
all intend to go flat in a week, regardless
(it's in the fine print if you read it ... I did once)

groceries cost more than you'd planned at the start,
but kids will eat food and have those "growth spurts,"
too soon outgrowing
new shoes that you'd bought them
  
When you boil it all down, we must do what is needed -
mostly for them, the brats we are raising;
it's the love of a parent: unbidden, unasked
  
I just close my two eyes before coffee on waking
(or sometimes just the one that sees that I'm walking)
and hope I'll make it to work in the morning

expect to come home in time to cook dinner,
collapse on the couch for a much-needed breather
remembering my bed is a-waayy up the stairs
where, sometimes, I make it before
the snores take me

Repeat.

I wonder what the speed of dreams is
can we outrun them
or catch up when we dare,
latch on to the ones
we would care to live in;
are they like sounds
rippling through air -

or rather more stars' light,
in flight 'cross wide universes,
like mighty, galloping, wild horses
'till caught by the eyes,
tamed rides for tired minds ...

... do they travel through ethers
known only to souls,
who keep them as secrets
when daylight unfolds
else we might stay there,
forgetting our chores,
just us two lying
on the bank of a river
under the willow
that binds us together

Face pressed against
Dimly lit glass,
The boy once glimpsed
Through and saw
The man.
Unkempt hair
Smooth chin,
Would one day
Hide behind
Gray beard,
Head still wild
Young child
Perched on a knee,
Perhaps.
The thought lingered
While time meandered,
And in my mirror
I see him again -
Plump cheeks,
Smooth-faced,
The child
Who played
With demons
Danced with angels
Kissed the lips of God.
Lost all his battles
Yet still stands
Not completely invalid.

Sweet nothings,
Our pillow talk...
All my names
Poured in
An open ear,
More hot tar
Pounded down
With open fist
For emphasis
Suggesting that a
Pencil may just fit
To keep it there,
Or tickle that part
Of my brain
That keeps me sane.
Today I lost my eyes,
Tonight no hearing -
Always thought it nicest
To die in sleep.

storm clouds frighten the horses
because they're  bigger than houses,
and the wild beasts know
men are only visitors here,
like animals and wild oats
that grow from sand dunes.

even the spit of land rooted in
is temporary,
awaiting the next storm
that blows through -
grains will come loose,
attracted to one another
by weakest of forces;
permanence just an illusion
created by maps that men
pretend to read.

angry water can boil earth
in swirling pools of froth.
men aim to tame them -
the horses and the water -
fenced in by thin pickets
and wishes thinner yet -
the waves never notice;
scared beasts know this,
but men never learn.

How casual he sounded,
The son who told me.
Her death, years ago,
Was to him as old
As news to me.
She was mother to he
But came lover to me
And there on the street
As strangers just passing,
The glimmers of past
Stoked my memory
But I couldn't remember his name
'Till we parted.
Searching his face,
Now a man's same as me,
For signs of some hatred
Or blame -
There was none,
Still smiles were awkward
And relieved, I walked on.
Was it his grace
Or mature understanding
That I, too, was a boy,
When she took me abed,
Still chasing young butterflies
And playing with toys,
Never paying a thought to
Replacing his father.
Lust kept secret for seasons
Before reason came bother
Lost in our thighs,
Or her ancient demons,
But a family shattered.
And I, only prize,
'Came ***** to new friends
Like a cheap bottle of wine
To pass among lips,
Psyche eroding with each of their sips.
With naive trust battered,
The sweet fever broke.
I awoke,
Summer already over.
So bittersweet, this sentiment
My sin with forgotten lover,
A son who lost his mother.