Like me -
I'm alone

Like me -
I'm ignored

Like me -
I'm sad

Like me -
I'm rich

Oh,
NOW you like me?

Divert my eyes from her smooth hair
Discern her hidden thoughts of care

Of lofty dreams, that might be won
My small hope is near the sun

If you please, go to your knees
and listen with your heart
In humble ways, review your days
and start to do your part

Do you know, just where to go
when you've reached the end?
If you do, it's up to you
to flex your soul and bend

The only pain, you will sustain
you should never hide
You'll find the pain, that you sustain
will be within your pride

When you arise, you will be wise
and changed inside and out
You'll see the light, and know you're right
and vanquish every doubt

Send me a greeting
across the waves
when the green sea
misbehaves

Tell me if your heart
fails to feel
my true love
for it is real

Send me a sweet kiss
across the blue
knowing that my soul
misses you

Tell me you love me
as I love you
but tell me only
if you do

Halloween costumes in the 70s were oversized homemade style-ups
of witches, princesses, cowboys, and greasepaint hobos
spoiled by coats and jackets worn over everything against the cold

She looks so good in organdy,
Everything light and fair.
White on white, her favorite look,
It went so well with her hair.

I see what you mean of ivory on bone,
But rosiness has its place.
All that white is a lily on snow,
While pink gives life to the face.

She needs that blush of healthy glow,
Not so pale and weak.
If you think she looks good now,
You should have seen her last week.

He heard and said, "I see."
He saw and said, "I hear you."
He liked what he had done,
but said, "Don't do as I do."

Along the ancient pathways of time
through indigo space
the gigantic bejeweled tortoise plodded
his enormous shell laden with cabochons and faceted gems
of amethyst worlds and sapphire planets
on glistening topaz feet like orbiting moons.

"Isn't that ruby on his forehead
the gigantic planet Hybithia?"
asked the guardian questioners --
"And, those emeralds are surely
the tourmaline sister spheres
complete with their ropes of pearl comets."

All eyes turned to the spectacle
and marveled at the scintillating sight
of endless golden filigree trims
and silvery chains that shone
like fire-bright bezels
around each glorious gem.

"What could the meaning be
of such a lavish giant?
Could it be an anomaly of treasure
or an error in the charts
of eternity beyond forever?"
they questioned --

"No" came the reply
of the handmaiden Sylphs
spreading garnet nebulas
from their shimmering baskets
while tossing whirlpool constellations
before the encrusted beast.

"That is the brooch of time --
a birthday gift
en route to Aurilia, the mother goddess of galaxies --
This is her diamond jubilee --
Today she is
a trillion."

The sadness seemed genuine
but it was not
The soulful touch on the arm seemed sincere
but it was not
The apology sounded heartfelt
but it was not

Later, the boss looked into
the restroom mirror
after firing Meg
for no real reason
and the smiling lips silently repeated
the favorite phrase --
           "My hands are tied."

Meg's optimistic cheerfulness
had just become too much
for the boss

The thought was
that work should always be miserable
for people below the line

___________


The hand dryer roared
to cover the boss' laugh

'Take that, Miss Happy Pants,'
                          she said to herself
'Wipe that smile off your face
                                 and take that!'

the blood has gone black
on my boots and the floor
chopping up heads
piles up the gore

the *** is now brimming
with eyeballs and skin
the cauldron now bubbles
it's time to begin

I'll ladle a bowl
of half-done meat
my Halloween soup
of fingers and feet

won't you accept
my summons to dine?
what will it take
your life or mine?

We should honor men of yore
country squires who lived before
men who came of noble roots
hedged by horses, crops, and boots -

Who replaced those men of yore
men whose presence filled a door
men who wouldn't take the bait
of the latest thing to hate?

There are those who you can find
of the selfless, meek, and kind -
But, these days those men are feared
by the jealous, they are jeered -

Here we watch accusing fools
weaving all their woke-up rules -
Why do they do what they do?
Because the devil told them to -

When silence is demanded
it is like being
handcuffed
from
behind
   ~~~
how unkind

the clover and the bee
held a requiem for my departing spirit
though I had not died
nor had I crossed that river of ghostly intersession
spoken of -- in hushed tones
between illness and that last soft breath
in darkened apricot-bathed chambers
of deepest reverence

lavender light shone in the pupil of Death's eye
glowing his ravenous invitation to me
cruelly -- at my weakest state
between the yellowed bedclothes of illness
and the bone-white shroud of sleeping clay

my stalwart spirit jumped to remembrance
of that hidden strength
in my secret cupboard
of once-forgotten thoughts
where sunny, buzzing meadows
are locked away on tiny hooks
-- for such a needy day
long nourished on blossomed perfume and
the sweet honey
of my innermost ponderings
and hopes

with every sinew of my last effort
I rallied with uncertain goad
and sitting straight
I whispered

NO

~~~
Death heard that word as a shout
and flew
on bat-winged terror
out
of
the round window
in my soul
leaving me whole
and alone
with the fragrance of the clover
and hearing only the breeze
and the friendly hum
of my physician
the
golden honeybee

The first breath of the morning
awakes the sleeping soul
The last breath of evening
rings out the death-knell toll

loving you is like
folding a fitted sheet --
there is a way to do it
but no one knows
what it is

Poets dream in rhyme
and stop the hands of time
They see the mountain's peak
and seek to make the climb

Poets dream in rhyme
then move the hands of time
They hear the soul's request
and speak the words sublime

Charred two-by-four fingers reaching to heartless clouds
as if begging Olympian gods to revoke Time's cruel jest
and reverse the flames of hellish appetite
to re-edify the humble house of a mishandled youth

Even a hovel is better than a pit

Sad-soaked earth in muddy remnants
of firehose ***** wet accusatory puddles
in apologetic licks
fake-begging forgiveness
while secretly hiding
sardonic grins of Neroesque thrills
of remembered flames while
tongue-stroked teeth proclaim victory
of one more pyromaniacal gorge
to be relived
and relived
and filed in the gray-matter library of ***** memories
to summon and chew for pleasure
on nights filled with the vacuum-gape
of nothing in particular

One Swinburneian spark whispers
"Enough"
while the Housmanian bat-squeak urges
"More"
and the Voltaireian whale-breach booms
"Yes!"

The only dark, wet echo that sounds
in the unfeeling distance is
"Why not?  I like orange."
and four more lives are swept
into the storm drain
with the suet and burnt dreams

Opening the heart
is like the blossoming of a flower --
Once begun
miracles happen --

Meg's little white Pomeranian puppy
should not be named Cotton
the way she hops up and down and runs around barking --
She should be called Popcorn and kept in a bag

Where did courage grab me by the neck
and force me onward?

Was it when I was hiding behind the piles of ship's cargo
where bravery took over?
Or was it when duty elbowed my excuses
into the dark waters of my easy fear?

I know a chill spat down my soul
and a steel fist closed around my weak resolve
when I heard her voice beyond my cowardly hiding place

"He doesn't initially care", she lied
with that ever-present word of hers, "initially"
Truth snapped onto focus in the mirror on life
"I guess you're initially right", I also lied
jumping out of the trenches
feeling the air suddenly leave the earth

The final confrontation flew around us
like a panicked bat in a fire
ending with a quick exit
and angry footsteps
fading on the weathered planks
of the indifferent old dock

Courage finally released my neck
and the air began to fill
the vacuum
around me

How
after that
in such a battleground
could I still enjoy a blood-red sun
setting over sailboats
bobbing in a row
unaware?

SOMETIMES VOICES
MAKE HOME HELL
EVERYTHING THEY SAY
THEY YELL

IT IS HARD
TO MAKE THEM QUIT
BUT YOU HAVE TO
DO YOUR BIT

LET THEM KNOW
THAT YOU'RE ON TOP
IF YOU WANT
TO MAKE THEM STOP

LET THEM KNOW
YOU'VE JOINED THE TEAM
WHEN YOU ANSWER
ALWAYS SCREAM

When entering a room
the conversation changes or stops

When making a joke
the laughter if forced

When you say "Hello" on the telephone
there is an awkward pause

When you make a suggestion
eyes dart judgementally around the room

When these things happen
you know the truth

You have been dealt out of the hand
of those around you

You are patiently, quietly
                                          tolerated

You are old now
                         and being filed away

When you question, you accuse
When you question, you will lose
Always  nod and soon agree
Always nod and say, 'I see'

I need to check my pockets
I've lost another day

embarrassing
what happened to Tuesday?

my garbage cans
missed the bus again

they are like orphans at the curb
unemptied and humiliated

Wednesday, you're tricky
you always sneak up on me

you pretend that you are Tuesday
by seeming unremarkable

maybe the neighbors will think
I'm out of town so the cans were left out

no, that won't work
the lids are yawning full to overflowing

maybe the neighbors will think
I'm just very early for next Tuesday

who am I kidding?
oh, yeah . . . me

it's you, Wednesday
you're just sneaky

The manacles of time clank shut around self-betrayed necks
with merciless finality
as the corpses in unvomited graves
try to whisper their regrets
through lips sewn shut with mortician's twine
and sealed shut
with the flesh-colored wax
of guilt

Mirages of banquets are occasionally conjured
to make dead mouths water with dust
beneath the leafmold
of tortured eternity

Lavish illusions of light and air are offered
but only the humus soil
is spooned by time
into the nostrils
with the earthworms of
of resentment

Silence is breached in perfidy
and craving in lying visions
of bounteous tables teeming with life's roasted plenty
once spread before these bulging eyes
and withered tongues

Echoing chambers are filled
with mental cries of those souls
who are flayed, rolled, and crusted
in the offscourings
of their own ground-up contrition
like a coat of pumice and splintered glass of hate

The vile demons hear those imagined screams
and laugh tauntingly at the suffering
which is their own midnight meal

Lust feeds the brazen
as remorse devours the penitent
for a recalled kiss
or stolen touch of affection
is but provender
to those ravenous memories and illusions
of long-forgotten feasts of love
that flicker in the mind
as though reflected
in rainbow-colored mud puddles
distorted
by drifting slicks
of motor oil

The dreamer will never be aware
that his own summoned memories
are the filthy womb of his endless nightmares
that drag after-birth chains
through his every waking hour
and prevent even a moment
of healing slumber

No

The menaced head
never sleeps
and the feast of illusions
never ends

The jagged sculpture you have made of me
comes by chipping away
bit by bit
with each slight rejection --
            I
              can
                    never                                can I?
                             be smooth again,

-------------------Can I drive?--------------------------
                              De­ath asked
                                and got into the car
                                ahead of her
                              She didn't answer
                           but took the wheel
                      as usual
                  Music? Death suggested,
            pointing to the radio
       with his skeletal hand
       but she paid no attention
        driving up the on-ramp
           and picking up speed
                 You still have chocolate
                       on your chin,
                              Death lied
                                   She turned the
                                          rear-view mirror
                                              to check her face -
                                                That is when
                                               Death
                                          grabbed
                                  the                          
                    wheel

with jewel-box vistas
the hopeful heart thrills
of amethyst giants
behind emerald hills

a carpet of lavender
blooms all around
while tourmaline waters
echo the sound

the sapphire shadows
on high-mountain snows
melt into diamonds
of glittering flows

from halcyon gold
on cupola domes
to pearl-pink love
in Bulgarian homes

the heart of the land
is bejeweled and complete
with tender devotion
both precious and sweet

---------------------------------------------------
                                                   A new
                                                       time
                                                           has
                                                            come­
                                                             to the
                                                              wo­rld
                                                             ­ at large
                                                           ­  and
                                                           many
                                                         hearts
                                                    have
       ­                                       learned  
                                        to hear
                                   the voice
                                of the
                               sky
                                and
                                  of the
                                       land
                                           in those
                                                quiet
                                                      moments
  ­                                                         that come
                                                            ­    when the
                                                             ­         heavy
                                                  ­                       stone
                                                           ­                of
                                                                ­          trials
                                                ­                         is placed
                                                                ­     around
                                                                ­  the necks
                                                           ­    of each
                                                          of us.
                                                      ~~~
   ­                                               Is
                                              it
             ­                            truly
                               ­     the
                               voice
                            of
                        nature
                    alone
                  or a
                greater
                power-
                a presence
                 greater
                   than
                     the earth
                       or even
                           the universe?
                                Indeed
                ­                     it is
                                          both
               ­                                 greater
                                                        than this
                                                            ­   and yet
                                                             ­      smaller
                                                         ­            than
                                                            ­         the
                                                                ­    tiniest
                                                                ­   grain
                                                           ­      of
                                                              ­sand
                                                           and
                                                     it has
                                            the value
                                      of the
                               largest
                         diamond
                that the
           earth
        can
     offer.
    It
    is
      that
         kind
             and
                 gentle
                      voice
                              of
                                   God
                                          falling
           ­                                     freely
                     ­                                 down
                           ­                                 into
                           ­                                     our
                        ­                                           hearts.
                                                       ­            ~~~
                                                             ­      So
                                                              ­    look
                                                        ­        forward
                                                 ­            child
                                                         and
                                                     know
                                                    you
    ­                                                are
             ­                                         in the
                                                          hands
                                                        ­       of the
                                                             ­         creator
                                                         ­                     of all
                                                             ­                      things
                                                          ­                            and
                                 ­                                                       He
       ­                                                                 ­                  is
                                                             ­                              talking
                                                                ­                          directly
                              ­                                                            to
                                                                ­                        you.

Was that a soft step?
In the darkness, a creaking?
No,
         now it is still.

My brain and soul were cleft in two
when we were no more 'me and you'
I seemed to lose my voice and sight
when you went off into the night

Each day begins as an unwrapped gift
that when opened should be lived
in the most hopeful way
                But
Sometimes I feel like rewrapping my gift
and going back to bed

You always start with a 'hon'
and you always end with a 'yuk'
That's why you're such a honyok

While alone the midnight hour
in the upper abbey tower
when the air became much colder
I felt a hand upon my shoulder

Jumping to a panicked flight
never looking left or right
taking stairs four by four
racing for the bottom floor

I will never know what being
or what ghastly hollow thing
touched me in that darkened room
promising my dreadful doom

But, I know that I can tell
in this simple quatranelle
you can search but never find
horrors worst than in the mind

Divide
then
Concur . . .
           of that
           I'm sure

When you love
divisions blur
night and day
what to say

When you love
decisions melt
should I go
yes or no?

the Puckrum-Buck clan lived down by the Keowee River
     in a tar-paper shack
their heads were either too big or too small
and their eyes were deep-set like in a cave -
     blackened teeth
          blotchy skin
               bald patches
                    and all disproportionate

old Garold was missing one eye, and his left leg
his eye patch was a piece of ***** handkerchief
stuffed right into the socket
he wore dirt-slicked overalls and a homemade pegleg -
Ma Puckum-Buck's filthy hair was ******* with a shoelace
her dresses were floursack rags
stretched over a bloated frame
                but when the Puckrum-Bucks got together
                they could sing like angels -
                a grimy sideshow
                                          of harmonic angels

Only the pinwheel spiral shapes
of the fuchsia and heliotrope galaxies
tell us in what direction they spin
as they travel at thousands of miles per hour-
yet, in their vastness, they seem as immovable
as the patience of God

Marie called
and
I lost my thoughts --

They were good thoughts too
But, I still love Marie

Why are you on top
of the list inside my day?
Get out of my brain.

I watched her carefully stepping
   across the top of the back fence
     avoiding the yard between
       my no-feline yard
        my yard where Chaos once patrolled
        my unsafe yard where Tallulah felt unwelcome

       Softly, silently, she steps with velvet soft paws    
      crossing all the way
     then leaps
    out
    of
    sight
     into the
      Watson's yard
         Watson's safe yard
              Watson's yard of welcome  

                          I wish she would stay
                                            long enough
                                                    to enjoy
                                                   the sun
                                               and finally
                                          be brave

                            Here, kitty
                        Here, Tallulah
                           Chaos has
                                   been dead
                                             for
                                                       two
                                                                ­   years
                                                        ­                         now --
                                                              ­     Give me another chance

in rain-pour thoughts, I wandered lost
and could not guess the dreaded cost
among the drops of hopes and fears
which were rain, and which were tears?