I keep my feet firmly planted

The ground is my only ally now

My knees tremble as if the world were crumbling

Beneath my ten exhausted toes

Maybe if I just stare off into space

The moments will slip by quicker

And she won’t notice that I’m late

To the only thing that matters to her

-

Maybe she’ll believe I’ve been here from the start

Or if she already does, my breath might slow

I ran with all my might

But time is hardly on my side when my tie won’t tie

And my laces won’t lace

Did she see me yet?

Is she’s waiting on that stage?

Waiting for her turn to chirp her tune

-

I wait for her name to be called

Hoping she hasn’t eyeballed me in faceless crowd

She’s a shining solo star

And I’m just the wondering weary witness

Fear was my drive and pulse

But relief was not there to calm my hammering heart

Her precious name did not ring in my ears

For I missed her tones in time by a mile

I need you to roll me a cigarette,

little girl. Give a twirl.

Flick the Bic and spindle your hair.

Will-O-Wisp in every curl.

Princely visions laced within your

every exhale  - sparkle fog. Alive,

thoughts so eager to dive and weave something vivacious

Memory’s mantra, colony hive.

-

We were born in a bog, favors never come easy.

Just stepping stones and play things

for the spoiled, the renegades, and identity seekers.

Impressed not by treks of rat kings.

Perhaps a crag will open up with a yawn

and swallow down towers of sheep-men.

Digesting their white picket vaults in the core.

Maybe I’ll get some sleep then.

-

Void Water throne room;

on golden stools they sit.

Not shiny chairs to squat on,

but the stool they crave to ****.

We lay in watch - cackling, amused -

As the chamber corrupts its own brood.

Together, we cast jubilant tones.

Beggar’s sphere language renewed.

-

Beneath the crooked branches of the walnut tree -

all bards fell silent. She riddles: “In which key?”.

The answer was the sound of ten-thousand vibrating wings.

Cinnamon sonogram

Detect the abnormalities too late.

Morning after birth of

a placebo placenta.

Irrigate the porcelain

of a lost labor laboratory.

Love found not within the arms of

the golem grasping for straws.

-

Wailing a harmony of blue and red.

Pumping panacea.

Steady the pace, you hotheads

with elegant electric veins.

On Monday she sung so sweetly and

whispered her prophet tales.

Saturday appeared as an echoing,

hollow and halfhearted hymn.

-

They retreat in rebellion;

lapping at salt laced lacerations.

Rye, grain, roots, and grapes

for the Baroness of the Barrens.

Weeping waters leads to the

sleeping daughters that dangle

their threats like fishing hooks

off of the edge of a world so flat.

An unusual crowd gathers

I can make out faces through every window

Blank, staring, sea of faces

Eyes fixed on the hillside across the way

My house seems only an obstruction

An optical obstacle obscuring an oncoming out pour

Unblinking they look at that overgrown hill

Where the wild brush spreads and those old rails stay planted

Stretching east to west

Those ******* rails that those ******* trains

would rumble down at four in the morning

Blaring their horns and shaking my bed

Until the sun woke up on schedule, like clockwork

Over and down the hillside, water starts to trinkle

Slipping and sliding

How ghastly it grows

From stream to spout

to rivers with rapids

Until the tidal wave shows its face - blank, staring

Eyes fixed on me

In the face of the end, I turn and flee

So many loved ones and trinkets to save

But the water is up to my knees

And the crowd - unmoving, unthinking

Without a gasp or a word of dismay

They open their mouths to drink in the doom

Parched since the prelude for the secession of air

Too late for nostalgia

Impact.

Empty handed the crow and dove shall return

Chatting cold conspiracies from across the coffee table.

Pangaea on the rocks - sweet, sober, civil silence.

When did the degradation become so severe?

Time ticks down and friendships fade to acquaintances.

Spine tingling tempo of the pitter-patter rain drop percussion.

Galloping triplets trickling down from the temples of thunder.

Hands of the clock clap in celebration of another hour killed.

Two o’ clock Coca-Cola to crown the king of carbonation *****.

Naming off artists to impress the drunken temptress.

Taunting the room filled with glimmer-eyed, lovestruck libidos.

All the kids are struggling to remember the horoscope they skimmed.

Brains drained to the point of puking in mouths, poisoning the passion.

With whiskey laced erections, this night chants a swansong.

Illegal lane changes and tiptoe key turning roustabouts.

The Hubble eye can’t detect the silent thoughts left hidden.

Dreams within dreams, lost in a cloud of exhaled acceptance.

Tonight, you fizzled, and tonight, you sleep alone.

These are the danger days. Timber!

I climbed to the top of the persimmon tree
To look into the eyes of God
But all I could see was the Moon staring back
So I figured that He was a fraud

I wept and I and screamed late into the night
This surely must be a mistake
Do I wait till I’m met by the reaper’s hand?
No, that’d be much too late

“If I jump right off of this tree,” I said to the wind
“I know I will meet my demise”
“But I just can’t resist knowing my fate,
And the color of the watcher’s eyes”

I fell to the world like a shooting star
My impact would be so profound
What wonder, what magic, would I soon learn of?
As soon as my head hit the ground

I feel the air vanish as I met Earth’s embrace
Into arms of soil I lay
For my sleep and dreams will never compare
To the mystery I solved on this day

Darkness, darkness, is all I see
In every direction and more
Silence, Silence is all I hear
From within God’s bedroom door