Hot muzzle smell
I will teach you
A brand new spell
It will make you whole again

She tastes like morning dew
Lips a deep red hue
He licks her neck again
Drink from the bottom shelf
Drinking to your health
God twists the knife again

What else can I say?
Et tu, Brute?
Sing songs to the king
Sad in a haze of wine
He walks in the garden
Whispering rhymes
Beneath his breath

Golden seraphim statues
Dance for a sad king
He twists his ring
Wishing

Then there on the roof
A woman bathing
She hums his favorite tune
Beneath the moon

No canine companion  has ever questioned me,
cheeky mongrel, you cross the line too often,
don't forget this; an animal  is still alive within me,
though an animal rights activist I remain officially.

A humid night
filled with magic and marijuana
laced pumpkin pie

Capped off with kids
singing Richard and Mimi Farina
on the back porch, alone

An acoustic guitar,
dreadlocks and harmony
found in the sticky air

Electric girl,
Pack Up Your Sorrows
and give them all to me

Put your circuits in the sea,
do what you feel now,
and give them all to me

Just the memories of her,
make his winery full;
he gets inebriated at will,
drinking it drop by drop.

I was the bridge at the front of your life
You held my railings
I guided you back and fourth
Until you learned the way yourself
You walked all over me
Some days you fell to your knees
And I cradled you
Lose wood planks swaying in the wind
You bathed in my sun
You drank my rain
And you stayed
For years you stayed
The stream was cool
And gray in the spring
When you first tip toed in
I was there for you to escape the chill
When your heels began to quiver
But the seasons changed and changed again
And here we sat- mid summer
Luke warm water
You'd wander in and
When your toes began to shrivel
You'd dance back into me
In and out
You'd move with the seasons
Until that day in the Fall
You reached the deepest end
You learned to swim
And you've been out there ever since
While I rest where I've always been
In this calm & quite misery
Aching for the light tickle of your skin
Or the crisp Autumn scent that you dragged in
I know there are new legs, somewhere, waiting
To lay over mine but I'd still do anything
For the legs I taught to walk at the front of my life

Hopelessly dependent on your heads and hands
were the pieces of me strewn on your platters
spinning wildly, correcting, dissecting my faces
praying for movement of the allegro, sans.

{An insidious little fox with her naughty tail
came to wrap around my being and close
never you mind what transpired next,
a shattering soul was no longer frail.}

But back and forth the fugue swings
never fulfilling the adagio's haste
the remnants of me are long since lost
scrambling for nothing, my madness sings.

Now I am left with no memory or past
now there's naught to look forward to
now I can die a regretful death
now the scherzo, can take flight, at last.

No tears shall fill this olive grove
the sorrows of a few grace its arches
the final movement is now at hand
slump, lively, into the irony of the allegro.

Eyes stare...
Into nothingness,
The jigsaw of to be’s,
Arranges and rearranges;
Into an appeal of mirage...
Swelling the oasis of life!

And when the glare pierces,
Eyes blink;
The jigsaw settles,
Synchronized with reality;
Strengthening my mind...
To derive the quirky balance -
Between the could be’s ;
And the one that is!

it is a constant struggle,
running trains to their edges and
withholding movement from cartographers/
whose only true love is
finding out

this movement;
nomadic sponsored dream
that denies being a symbol, or
having ever given up,
collapses on itself

pocketful of maps
but no stars, no compass

it is a viscous walk back and forth/
and as pacing substitutes
affirmative action, melting on the tracks
seems refreshing