It is time
To leave this house that is no home
To go abroad
To roam

To be a vagabond, hobo
Abandon hope
Not one stone on which to stand
No single tile above your head

To love without regard
Never have a care
To know not what you lack
No holding back

To reap nothing, only sow
Plant and move away
Eat some other’s heads of wheat
Though it be Sabbath day

To tell the truth, say the sooth
No matter what or why
To die and live and die again
A thousand deaths each day

To live each moment all alive
High dive

Sitting on the porch
Oppressed by atmosphere.
Perspiration’s touch
Movement costs too much

Find the shade
Drink in sips
Kool Aid
Stains her lips

Setting sun
Slips underneath
The shadow trees
Turns riotous green to gold

Darkness steals
In from the East
Teasing of relief

Bumbling bees
Deflower as they feast
Such power
In the ***** of the beast

Hershey melts my mouth
Dogs lie content
Having licked the plates

Sugar high mixes with my wine
How can I write
When I cannot think?

You wash dishes
Tidy up the room
I sit here decadent
My eyes smell your perfume

Dishwasher thrums
Glasses clink and clatter
Two feet or four
Shuffle cross the floor

Such simple sounds
Slide into our silence
We dare not speak
Dare not break the spell

We sit on sofa
One upon each end
No glance passes

How long have we been here?
No way to measure
No words to mark the time

Quiet slips and settles round
Drugs our senses
Fogs our forgetfulness

Lamp light warms this cozy spot
Warm almost as the dark
Of the kitchen you just left

My ears are drunk
From soaking up your sounds

Sometimes
When the noise dies down
I can hear
God's own sound

Sometimes
When the daylight fades
I can see
The fairy shades

Sometimes
When there's not too much
I can feel
Your sweet touch
On the hymn of my garment.

“Come over here” I said

She came
Laid herself upon my shoulder
And melted into me
As only she can do

For a long time
There were no words
No need for them
Just that powerful thrum
Like a lion’s purr

It held us there in silence
Like kids in awe of church

It assured my faithfulness
Without any need for promises
Or pledges or oaths

It will
As long as one of us can ask
“Come over here”

There lies a gulf 'tween you and me
One of which Rumi wrote
A churning chasm full of fear
On which this poem floats

Blood sweat and tears
to craft this line
to speak this spoken word

Yet fruit of years
dies on the vine
If no one ever heard

A mournful mist anoints the silent trees
A leafless limb grows crystal orbs below
A musty mother pulls them toward her womb

They tremble at the coming of the breeze
They fear the fall to what they do not know
They see the earth absorbing like a tomb

At last their weight overcomes their will
The tearing loose, the terrifying thrill
The bursting open on the forest floor
The ecstasy: One is no one no more.

Cliff Perkins
November 6, 2015

The bad guy in the movies
Dies such a pretty death
Time for one quick line and then
He crumples out of breath
But love’s death is much different
The heart has claws and teeth

Love dies like those children
Starving slow, alone
Looking up with hope filled eyes
When all hope is gone
Accusing you with every look
Hanging on and on

Love dies like a cancer
The non-aggressive kind
That promises remission
For your many sins
Promises found broken
When the pain returns

Love dies like a miner
Trapped beneath the ground
Clawing at the cave in
Listening for a sound
Hearing clinking shovels
Coming to his aid
But the sound is only water
On the other side

Love dies like the soldier
Left out on the field
Screaming for his mother
No one hears his squeal
No one but the wild pigs
Coming for their meal

What did you try and tell me?
To make this a clean break?
To turn my back and walk away
Let this scene fade to black?

But this is not the movies
This love is far too real
It’s stronger than the both of us
It’s ******* hard to ****

So if we take the pillow
To hold against its face-
Push down with all your weight
To hold it tight in place

Hold it through the thrashing
The clawing of our arms
Hold it through the gasping
The hospital alarms

Hold it though the silence
And then a moment yet
Until the temple bell stops ringing
'til hope is hopeless met.

Today he walks up and licks my hand
I speak softly but still make no move to hold him
He comes again, more relaxed this time

Suddenly he trusts me and the dam bursts
He is ecstatic, tail wagging, big smile
Eyes laughing hilariously

I rub his back and say something like:
“So finally you decided to come in out of the cold”  

In that moment of saying those words
I fall apart sobbing uncontrollably
Full of this happiness/sadness

When the crying stops
I ask myself: “What was that all about?”
Then suddenly I know
I am a wild dog too.

I first saw him
Hiding in the woods edge
Looking so intently
What are his eyes saying?
Fear? Want? Desire? Need?
Yes. Yes. All of the above

He is Always on alert
Watching my every move
Hyper-vigilant
Ready to dart way at a moment’s notice

Days and weeks go by
He is friends with my dogs now
But isn’t that the way?
You can trust dogs more than people

If I ever move toward him
He pirouettes
and maintains our distance
It is a dance we all do
like many other dances

I respect his needs
I make no move towards him
No harsh words
Just sit and wait
and show myself
Give him room to be

If only I could have had the strength
To do the same with you

9/22/2012

Good for Nothing

I have been up for an hour now
And I haven’t done anything constructive
I threw on some ***** clothes
Made coffee
Took a walk

When I got back, I turned my computer on
It flashed its reminders and appointments
“Do this. Do that.”
Deadlines and commitments
I clicked the little button that says
“I’ll be there”

But I’m not there
I’m still here

Guilt inexorably and surreptitiously
Seeps through my defenses
Like floodwaters through sandbags
Showing me its mirror
With its version
Of who I should be

But the dogs lie peaceful at my feet.
The cool morning air caresses my cheek.
The sun proclaims that the new leaves
are a thousand shades of green.
The birds scold me
for sitting too close to their food.

The Beech tree
I would not have planted it there
A little too close to the house, blocking my view from the porch
But some ones thought differently- the sun, the seed, the wind,
I hit the chainsaw’s **** switch

Who am I to question?

Do not despair the death of bees
Our progress shall repair
Our nanotech makes robot bees
Whose hum shall fill the air

Amazing us who don God's robe
Become the higher power
And yet I muse, can cold steel probe
Fulfill the yearning flower?

Cliff Perkins

A sudden surge tears through the underbrush
A tumbling tackle of growling fur
A cornered coyote attacked by my two dogs

I stand and watch
Like it's some nature show
More horrible in real life

Strange how long it takes
A good twenty minutes
They must edit those shows

He is wounded, wants only to escape
My dogs refuse, synchronously circle
One hundred and eighty degrees apart

He knows nothing of degrees
He cannot watch them both
So always, one unseen
Dives in to wound him more

Unlike him, I can -
Watch the whole show
From a safe distance

I do

Twenty minutes is an eternity
Death does not come easy

There are breaks
Like rounds in a prize fight
A minute or two for everyone to rest

He lies there in the middle
My dogs nearby
Everyone relaxed and panting
Like friends on a hot afternoon

Perhaps they’ll let him go
He tries but, no.
They continue the carnage

He inflicts a few wounds of his own
But the outcome is now becoming clear

Knowing this, he whines and begs
Like a pup crying for his mother
My dogs do not care

I keep watching

Finally it’s over
He lies there, mouth wide open
Showing his beautiful white teeth
Eyes wide open, showing what I have no wish to see again
His life flashing before his eyes
And mine

The whole time, I just stood there
Did nothing to assist the ****
or stop the violence
Remained on the safe sidelines
A ****** of violence

Only when it's safe do I approach
I take his picture
What was it the aborigines said?
“No pictures -
Your pictures steal our soul”

But I insist
I take the pictures
I steal the souls

His and mine

Cliff Perkins
September 13, 2016