Your hair is lava that springs from the earth
Your smile is the moon that glows ‘pon the hearth
And every vapor of your body reminds me of the sea
Teeming with life, electrifying!

O, how you walk with dalliance, perfect like a sunflower
                                                          that blooms every May
While your lips are cherries—of course ‘twould be sweet!
But if there’s one thing I most admire
Like music from a lire
It is your eyes
Which makes me want to cry.

Trill of beak into birch. Dawn spooks
the graveyard into silence. A heart
hardens at God’s withered finger reaching
but not reached for. I trim the hedges
and the whir of ****-eater disturbs
a nest of yellow jackets into tornado,
dust devil, of translucent wings and sting.
I walk among the dead three times a week.
I am learning their language. They relearn
the mundanity of white noise above
and quietly forget, quietly forgive.
This hill is the crest on a wave of coffins,
each one a boat through the world below.
Submerged in a bloodshot morning
I listen to a woodpecker in its throes
of building a home out of the depths of bark.
In the chill, the soft fog rolling, it pecks
and it knocks. The doors to these lives
long closed, I hush. I do not believe God
will visit these grounds to reclaim his clay:
I plant flowers in it between the plots,
each name engraved of marble a blank stare.
The flash of red flushes from budding branches
and I return to work. No one answers.
I relearn the dead’s language, their silence,
relearn every day how to repair stillness.

What it is,
tethered to your arms?
*** has gone.

******* hurled itself
out the door and into the highway,
lured by the hitch hiker's course.

Your ****** shaft bears
no resemblance to a sheathed dagger
that once slayed

indiscriminant of ***** lips and vulvous tongues.
Hands that hailed eyes
shut to meaning, mouthed

delirious to more than ailments of corporal pleasures.
Flesh to flesh,
breath to skin,

sweat of your brow
dripped into the last sheets
soiled and saturated.

But what is it,
tethered to your arms still?
Transfigured

to what lingers beyond
a look and a touch,
strings the web to another bridled day.

I sink deeper into the atmosphere we were responsible for,
in silence my eyelids and I fight the sunlight’s slow and crescendoing intrusion,
wondering if she is still asleep
or if she realized by now that every time she makes the slightest fidget
away from the center of the bed
I bite her

right where her lower abs meet her hip flexor
on the outside
I wanted to have her learn I am consistent.
she didn’t have to give consent,
degenerates like me don’t care

if I want the cake and proceed to eat it before day break
then so be it.
Nuzzling now
her lips press their frozen presence into the space under my jaw
and a warm gust of her pushes my sideburns up

my chest jumps
lumps in my veins snowball and create
the feel of cherry bombs popping
at every nerve ending I had forgotten

it rings me.
how could I let her trick me into jostling my babe awake?
and all before the alarm.
I grow the wings of a vicious pelican, expanding my span
using my featherish lips to attack her out of cryostasis
she curls up, afraid of more laughter and pushes her tongue through the gap she made
between her bottom and top rows of teeth.
she glows better than the bringer of days
the sun must find me insane.

I stir in the soft glow, in the room, and traffic is a slight ocean's wave, in sound,

I put my hand upon my chest, this ceiling isn't mine, the fixture here is round?

When I roll over, you are there, face hidden by your hair,

Pillow grasped with hands still bunched, have a hunch

We loved last night under, the moonlight, cloud light , no light

If I remember anything, ... umm I must get dressed and take my things

I must leave without saying goodbye, or get the stare from sleepy eyes,

That could **** even me, with the air thick with thrill, from the eve before,

No, I must leave sleep and you, to walk the dog who is scratching at the door,

for sure before I leave, this early early morn.

Did you know
over 100,000 people
die every year by
careless drivers, slippery stairs,
not following printed directions,
lapses in common sense,

These are common errors we share.

Some of us get lucky,

we evade, we clutch the banister,
we start at step one,
We double check electrical wires,
& carry scissors blade down,
never running.

People die at work all the time,

on the Monday morning drive,
rear ended in traffic on a rainy
Thursday night.

The 9 to 5 can take you,

spirited away at the desk
during a 45 page monthly report,

you get to cell C83
on worksheet 8
and your heart explodes
from stress,

blood vessels burst in
your brain like black cats
on Halloween night
from strain,

All for a gold watch,
a 401 k,

so your wife can smile
and your children can
play in their backyard.

We do it for 48 hours we can
call our own.

5 days of Hell
for two days in Heaven

means the devils
get their dues
and the gods
give yours to you.

Oh, Weekend
Mourn,
How I love thee.

I wake up
when I wake up,
no alarms needed.

Sometimes I shower after
coffee, sometimes after
dinner.

Death leaves me alone
leaves me to my
streaming movies,
old books
and my poetry.

Oh, Weekend
Mourn
How I love thee

No worksheets.
No stress.
No Death.

Until Monday,

everything is fine,

until Death wakes me
with a whisper

"Get up,
It's almost time."

Oh, Weekend
Mourn
How I love thee.

Early ******* to blasphemy
     and morning chorus on the solstice;
gentle white twilight
     and the earth tumbling around,
asleep.

I want to be the bed covers
You wake to
That your restless limbs
Have smothered
That your emanating body
The fabric
You have tossed-and-turned in
8 hours hence
Imprinted with your scent

And the mouthwash
You gargle
To swoosh-and-splash
Along your tongue
To be in you
Like a liquid ache
Sloshing
Waking


I want to be the fork
You pick your eggs with
My metallic spine
In your slight fingers
Your demure  hands
Scarred sustenance
Yolk sun

I want to be the comb
Tangled in your frizzy hair
Your wavy hair of smoke
And shadowed lakes
As soft as lint
Cascading

I want to be the cig
You light on the corner
To warm the brick morning
I want to hang on your quivering lips
Like an autumn leaf from a branch
I want you to inhale me
And let your body loose
Feel me utterly
Then exhale...

Let me evaporate
Into the nothingness
I was before

You

Yawn… Through the early morning stars.
The glimmer catches my smile as I exhale the night.
I sigh and release the long, dark hours,
And look up to watch the sky ignite.

The warmth ****** the chill on my cheeks,
And dries the dew on my drowsy lips.
I unravel my limbs and flatten my peaks,
Letting the Dawn kindle my flesh with golden drips.

The grass just waking up reaches beneath me.
The leaves whistle sweetly to the trees.
I take a breath of sunshine,
And feel the world around me buzzing.

Finally, I can say
“Good morning.”