Car alarms and crying
Beeps and burbles
Tweets and giggles
All up in the crab apple tree.
Even your name is befuddling.
Cat Bird.

A conversation over a cup of coffee
(Sainsbury’s low quality)

The kettle burbles in the background
Bartering bubbles for blatant babbling

The granules flop, shake if they stop
Right from the top, into brown slop.  

Stir with a spoon,
Stare into the eye of the storm:

Vanilla swirls, auburn curls,
Minding their manners, glances from girls.

Hazelnut eyes, thinking they’re wise.
Smile contradicting the, frankly, **** skies.

Pupils dilate,
Chalk dusted slate,
Tea leaves are telling me this must be fate

Dumb conversation,
Mind saying more,
Something unsaid seems to open a door

I’d rather its shut, its dangerous but
Sugar, im just an emotional ****

I’ll let you in, this time you win
‘Another coffee?’
You ask, with a grin.

I.
I lift my eyelids.
plipliplip.
The rain invites me to play.
Her cold fingers curl around the doorframe,
"Come on, come sing again! Sing, just like you used to!"
She burbles gleefully.
"Come on, old friend.
We used to be ballerinas, whirling and laughing.
We used to be one
one and the same."
Her fingertips inch through my solid oak door.
I frown and shove the door closed
throw down the lock
yank my curtains closed
Closed to the scent of moss
to the wail of the wind
to the percussion of the weather.
(I prefer the smell of coffee
the sound of silence
of security.)
"I used to be a lot of things," I call.
"But then I grew up."

II.
She knocks at my door.
Again. (memories are persistent.)
Teasing me with her calm voice
whispering lofty and cool.
I sigh
begrudgingly I follow
sliding into my raincoat
tugging up the hood
drawing the string tight around my jaw.
She dances in watery windchimes
sluicing across the slick sidewalk,
she pirouettes
leaps
beckons for me to follow.
My galoshes are not as forgiving as toe shoes; I trip.
I reach out my hand tentatively
curiously
feel a cold ***** of water slide down my index finger.
Icy. Biting.
I gasp and flick it off.
The world is a box of watercolors
but all smeared together in shades of earth.
Shadow, cornflower, lilac, mud
muddy colors I identify straight away.
They bring a smudgy comfort
a hesitant nostalgia.
I feel a note catch in my throat
like trapping a dragonfly in a glass jar.
It flits violently to escape,
but I dare not let it out.
It is sunny under my umbrella.

III.
Late late night
midnight and a half (to be exact.)
I hear her call
frosting my windows with condensation.
I etch into my foggy breath,
feeling the panes hard against my pale skin.
"Come." says her voice.
"Listen--" I protest.
"Live." urges her whisper.
So I fling back the door
let the coolness trickle down my head.
Silver bullets sparkle in the moonlight
I tilt my face towards the crystal beads,
watch them pour across my face.
I shake my flimsy nightgown
sodden with tears never shed.
I twirl, laughing across the yard.
"Old friend, how I have missed you!"
The rain calls to me.
My tears melt with hers
tumbling down my neck.
My words burst forth, a crescendoing horn
swelling across the rooftops
resounding to the deepest roots of the trees.
"I don't want to grow up."

Waking breath ghostly frozen, clang of ***-belly stove opening, cedar crackles good morning, sap sizzles, pops, melting.  Warmth finds children sleeping, humid air, mouth-breathing.  Smell of boy sweat and feet, young women ripely sweet.  

Cats purring, stirring, padding quiet down stairs, weave meowing through mom's legs.  Dented percolator burbles better days, snap of toast burned haze, molten mush bubbles burst, fade.  Birds early on the highway Paradise-seeking, time, flash-burned, fleeting. Cobalt jay mockingly complains, chickadee sings his own name, coyote wails, thin and plain.  

Children rise, sleep in their eyes, squabble over bathroom prize, eldest wins, click, locks herself in.  Hurry, hurry the bus is coming, ancient driver, annoyed and honking.  Brown-bag lunches crinkled running, feet slapping, seats squeaking, lungs hot and bursting.  Ride the dawn breaking, hearts aching for more than this, rural bliss.

Stop sign flashes caution, young lovers in the back seat, bodies in motion.  Stop, start, sway on down the highway. Engine mimics hot blood lust, accelerated diesel rush, nothing can stop us. You grab my knee - young, carefree.  Brakes sigh and hiss, sneak one last kiss. You mouth - meet me later, we'll sneak out, rush to a future we haven't got, ready or not.  

The old road at dusk, frog song accompanies us, bike wheels on the asphalt hum, forbidden moonlight run.  Feel your heartbeat on my spine, frantic drumming matching mine. Horned owl hoots, forlorn and bleak, a premonition we refuse to heed, reckless with need. In the clearing young love begins, forget-me-knots on burning skin.

the night in turmoil
a bumble jumble fumble
of croaks, hoo hoo, purrs, stridulous chirping

then a sudden cringe, ******!,
shush shush
hush, gurgling creek,
hush, whiffled leaves

clippety-cloppety
clippety-cloppety
clok clok clok

a schwing, zing, zip
and a plunk
and a plonk
in a whoosh
and then a scrunche scrunche
and

clok clok clok
clippety-cloppety
clippety-cloppety

silence burbles

tick tock tick tock

shh, shh,
listen:

a sluggy chugalug
and a fuzz of tiny tunes:
a yelp, a eep

stilness

a purr a buzz
putt putt putt
slowly back in motion
the burbles, whiffs, croaks,
the stridulous bumble jumble
of a crickety night

He knows what lies below.
This is where it all began: here
Beneath the bubbling sludge and ******* mud.
This is the home brew, the cocooning grounds.
His sturdy boots trudge through,
Hefting questions and glasses askew.
Somewhere to the side a fat swamp prince
Composes bog rhymes in ribbit meter.
Each squelching step sets a buzzing bunch
Of crystal dragons zipping away to
Slick peridot pontoons. A loon swoons
The expeditioner with a sobbing cry. He
Has said goodbye to reservations, to the
Long-dead preservation rights. He slogs through
The buzzing night. Yellow daggers clench
Between scaly steeltrap snappers and stones
With eyes blink in languid surprise, unnoticed.
He is lost, dying, unsure of his quest. He needs a
Cure. He knows it lies here, in the beginning place.
Their faces haunt his deathly guts and crush
His straining heart with need - need for the solution.
Need to survive, to prolong his life - alone!
So alone: the last. If only he could rest.
His nostrils quiver with the homesick stench
Of tails becoming legs and nipping lips sprouting
Sticky tongues. The answer, he is here for the
Only answer. Something below, below, down
In the dredges of history - in the slime of
Centuries, rotless and preserved. He will find it:
Some link, some closer thing he can revive
And test and rest as bedrock for his life.
A foot sticks in the overfriendly tar. No,
He will not pause. He has come too far.
In the birthing grime, some hungry memory wakes.
It knows what lies above, it thirsts to cease it.
It reaches, roils, pulls, rips with smelly squish-fingers -
Thirsting and thirsting to slake. It longs to reveal
To show, to make known to the traveler.
(All he has searched for is found here, it knows,
Organized and close. Held and safe below)
It reaches, grabs - thirsty - presses him into
A false step. A slip. A skritching clipboard
Of statistics curses in rustling indignance
As it flutters to the mud above a splattered head.
Science-frozen lungs fill with dread -
With life-giving peat. (It will show him) He ***** in
And burbles out a scream. (what he wants, show him)
This is where it begins, (this is his dream!) where it ends.
Now he knows what lies below. He lies - curled -
Quenched from growth. The eyes of unnoticed
Stones blink in surprise. Soaring swamp lyrics
Rise, a loon swoons with a sobbing cry.
He curls in peace and drifts alone
Now he knows what lies below.

Inside my heart, deep within a well
A treasure chest of peace resides.
There for me when it seems
Like there’s nothing left to break.
After all the layers of my soul
Feel shattered, are weak.
Calming me even when
I’m deep in anxiety.

A broken mess touching this
Treasure chest buried deep within
Restoring a strength I thought lost,
Pushing me to take a new step,
To keep pressing forward,
Giving me a reason to smile,
To never give up
When all seems lost.

A treasure chest of hope,
There to put me on my feet
When it seems I've lost my way,
Can’t find an open door.
Giving me a light to look for
In the dark mess surrounding,
This maze I’m trapped in,
These endless tunnels blinding.

A treasure chest of joy
Stitching back the pieces of my heart,
Giving me a hand to wipe these tears
That stream down my face.
Unlocking laughter that burbles
Without reason or cause,
Simply because I can be happy
In spite of all the road blocks.

A treasure chest of determination
Daring me to run at those
Obstacles and overcome them.
Giving me a bounce back in my step.
The answers I need,
That were always inside of me
And the will to seek
The ones that are missing.

Unlock my inner treasure chest
And you will find a force
To be reckoned with.
An independent soul
With a heart to pursue life
With arms wide open
And a strength to accomplish
Even her wildest dreams.

You move like a snake

silently, smoothly, along soft and

from morning dew wet grass.

I found your shed skin beside the lake,

a trace, a mark to follow

already drunk of your sweet fragrance.

There you wait for me on the edge of the woods

but your are a chameleon: every tree, leaf, whisper

of air says your name, hide you, then expose you in twister

and I’m in trance, exhausted of search.

I lean my body on the nearest birch to rest, your alertness

to test.

And there you come,

gorgeous in all your beauty to ****** me with flickering

fiery licks of the tongue that glides over my skin, biting my chin.

I shed my dress, with sky’s bless

Love and Earth, Eden in birth of our desire

endless and restless.

Lake ripples, burbles in sweet aches of waves

upon the gravy shore.

I wake up. I see your peaceful face resting beside mine.

You are a dream of the realm unseen.

There are no descriptors to describe my adore.

I bend to kiss you and hurry to pick up the clothes from the floor.

I want to take you to the city
and put your name in lights
after spending the day seeing
all the touristy sights
I'll take you to a restaurant
We'll have the finest meal
music will be playing
you'd pick lobster over veal
I'd smile across the table
watching you decide
on cake instead of creme brulee
and of course instead of pie
there'd be women all around us
beauty of all sorts
and still my eyes stay on you
for no other can compare
none has your intense gaze
your lovely sea blue eyes
no lips can match your lusciousness
to me you rise above
We'd leave the restaurant
I'd see it in your eyes
disappointment for you thought it then
I'd saved the real surprise
We'd travel to a busy street
and walking hand in hand
I'd stop and kneel before you
look into your eyes
the lights would flash on behind me
The message beaming bright
I'd read to you a poem
trying to sum up in mere words
the reasons why I love you
and want you in my life
I'd ask you the question
If you would be my wife


I'd take you to the city
together we'd see the sights
we'd have a picnic in a park
we'd find a tree casting shade
and stare into the sky gazing at the clouds
and watch families stroll by
our hands clasped tight together
we'd speak our dreams aloud
the family that'd be ours someday
of a life well lived, the love we'd give
as night fell on the city, day fades away
we'd find a restaurant to eat a meal
and talk about our day
I'd feel the box in my pocket and wait
the moment would be right
I'd thought and planned and knew
tonight would be our night
you ate the cake, instead of pie
I watched you with a smile
the world around us faded out
reaching out to caress your face
to feel your so soft skin
the words I had prepared
seemed so very thin
we paid and leave into the night
the stars shining high above
I take your hand in mine
and we slowly walk
returning to where our day had begun
the lights are out, the park is dark
and then we see the glow, an island of light
we reach the center, there's a fountain
surrounded by a sea of candles
the water burbles happily
I kneel before you in this man made sea
the light it dances on your skin and I know
where to begin, with the love that I feel
and how your love has helped me heal
how I know my life is with you
and with a question I stake it all
be my love, my wife, my all

The shruckling brook twists around
the underbrush, ferns, and green little brots
making it's clean path through
the wild turns of the otherwise
confriggalus jungle.
It chuckles and burbles and babbles,
And trammles and jackles and plurks,
on its very merry way
plarfling to itself,
smelling the strungent perfume
of the zurplagot flowers,
tasting the salty stebbles
tickling its feet.

Sitting watching the winds dance through bare ***** trees, their branches swaying methodically
The leaves twirling in graceful loops down through the stubborn branches getting caught on the jutting appendages
Lands with a soft pat on the dried grass below, flicking into a comfortable position, nestling into the leaves
A mourning dove cooing in soft burbles of sounds intermingling with the cry of calling crows
A woodpeckers tap-tap-tapping up the trees and flitting through the browned leaves their strangled songs ringing
The hawk circling lazily above the treetops with wings outstretched in a long line, undisturbed and smooth
A squirrel scuttles through the leaf litter and digs a home for the nut it holds in its quivering mouth, front paws scurrying
The family of turkeys cluck a quiet conversation to and fro with feathers ruffled from the chill wind
That wind carries the promise of winter in its icy clutches with the scent of polar clear in its currents
My reddened cheeks tingling from the sun warming them out of their frozen stupor, egging them from the shock
The sunlight dimples across the perfectly fitted leaves littering the forest floor below me, dappled from the shadows
Fuzzy grey outlines pattern the weeds lining the bases of trees, the stick thin traces of branches divide and crack
The air is coloured with a warmth undescribed, brown and red and orange licking the edges of everything like flame
You can almost taste the seasoning of fall mixed with the oxygen, spiced like pumpkin and cinnamon sticks
Rough bark crackles beneath my curious fingers, tips brushing flaking tree, the very skin that holds in the feelings (sap)
Blue sky peeks between fluffed clouds fresh from the dryer with the sheets still mixed with them
Pink veins behind closed eyelids faced towards the orb of light in the sky that heats the ozone around the earth
Autumn eating fire surrounds the people too oblivious to notice this indescribable beauty.

i open the door to the
crisp autumn air
the smell of eucalypt
and salt...

first frost has fallen,
a light fairy dusting
of sparkling crystals
shimmer beguilingly
on the green lawn.

dissected by trail of cat prints
leading to a mess
of blue and black feathers.
this was one early bird,
who should have stayed in bed?

and on the rocks,
near the koi pond,
framed by the early sun.
the black and white cat
from down the road,
washes it's face....
with long clawed paws.

inside the house,
my less ferocious two
settle for chicken biscuits
and the warmth
of recently vacated beds.

I sigh and mourn the loss
of yet another wren....
before cleaning the evidence away.

the black and white cat watches,
with golden, gleaming and wholly unrepent eyes.
before slinking off, behind the lilacs.

so now, peace is restored....
and the water burbles gently across the rocks.
while the frost melts away
and the sun gains strength
to face another...
glorious autumnal day.

Sometimes life is quiet, don't push.
There are no 'shoulds'.
Peace is inner silence,
Be still and listen to the
Quiet whisper of your soul.

She is powerful in her silence.
No need to make noise to be seen
No need to make show to be heard
Get in there, deep inside
And rest in the dance.

Know your flow that
Bubbles and burbles along.
Don't be clever, simple is good.
Simple is quiet.

She is sleeping in the shade,
Your inside self.
She who dances to the song
In your heart is quietly listening
To the rhythm of your soul beat.

Cradle your knowing,
Your hearts lullaby will
Rock your soul and
Fan the fire of sleeping passion.

Come little one your feet
Have wings that angels envy
And your eyes closed to darkness
Sparkle like a galaxy of stars
On a moonlit sea.

Come, rock gently, rest.
Sometimes life is quiet
Don't push or pull.
Listen to the hum of the silence
Be still, let HER dance.

He fell away with his uffish head all full
and he bought what we couldn’t buy him and
he didn’t buy what we swallowed whole
or at least he sold it back or gave it away
for vorpal heresies & novel fascinations

And just like we taught him to ride the red
a few swipes away from bankruptcy and desolation
but welcome and chortled to fail if that’s
easier for now than climbing the Tumtum tree
or trying to make it in this world
well fed - given all to eat and truly loved

It’s curious how the rain gyred down today
and stopped and came again and stopped
because the cadence of his windshield wipers
seemed to coincide with the crankier parts:
only working when there’s nothing left to wipe

We don’t even give two ***** if a Jubjub bird
falls dead and he whiffles away, sword
between his legs (though that is dangerous)
and the beast escapes. He can eat the **** bird
for all we care, but for sustenance, not triumph

But our son is still lost; he’s frabjously
writhing in the tulgey fiber of disappointment
unable to slay even the puniest of borogoves
His melancholy surpasses all comprehension
and he isn’t coming home any time soon

He’s not galumphing back.

What use is a mimsy rhyme to the famished?
How often are we warned, beamishly chastised
of the brillig peril of worrying ourselves
with feeding the slithy soul
when the body burbles, always demands to eat first
and is satisfied by no less
than the frumious flesh of the fatted calf?

I can see your fingers snatching at the surface,
And, I’m holding out my hand.

I can see your face and your silent screams,
And, I’m waiting, with my arm outstretched.

My feet are planted and my heart is set
To never leave this spot,

Because, I see you flailing & your burbles of wailing,
But, I’ve been placed here to stand and wait.

Stop screaming.
You’re dreaming.
Grab hold.

beautiful, long-lashed baby girl
hair black and smooth, peruvian:
steel blue eyes.

mama has too many latin ******* to beat up
to enjoy your gentle burbles and smiles
too much hair to style
too many faces to kiss in pictures
that aren't yours.
gold chains and pursed lips and popped hips
her lifestyle,
though changeable,
leaves her unwilling.

too pregnant too early
too willing too early
i remember walking down streets with her
a child
telling me that she wanted to have ***.

she did finally,
and she had you.
for a few weeks, maybe.

i hope you live with your grandmother
and not with a stranger.
i hope your mother will apologize someday
for choosing to be wild
instead of loving
to one of the most beautiful baby girls
i have ever seen...

(just like her
mother)

[explicit, immature or whatever]*

remember, sweetie, that time
i was crying i couldn't stop

you undressed me
as the steam concealed all mirrors
and the burbles echoed my sobbing

hush, hush, baby girl*, whispered
the milky softness of your hands
pouring shimmerly on my shoulder
washing away my tears
rising a tide from my thighs to
my ******* my *******
geminally arosing in your palms
your hands your polished nails your mouth
me dripping tepidly in your shivering

then, sweetie, then, remember,
and again, my fair lady, lay me within the play
shatter all mirrors and free this starry night

The willows shade me from the sun,
On that warm summer's day.
The wind plays lazily with my hair,
As the rest of the world slips away.

The lazy brook burbles by,
Smoothing out rough stones
The breeze whispers in my ear,
Secrets no human knows.

I forget the world in this moment,
The drama, the pain, and the fight.
How can everything be so wrong,
When everything now feels right?

i sit and watch,
the dust motes dance
in the stream of sunlight

the computer hums and burbles
like and old friend, intent on
sharing the latest gossip

last years detrius of papers
and unfinished lists, new job lists
teeter in the corner....

my backside has again grown
a size too ample,
for my ergonomic  chair

my brain is lax and lazy
slow to grind into gear....

this is the awkward,
i don't want to be here
start to the years marathon

it is the organizing of details
the preparation of the course

it is meetings and more meetings
dull, dry, academic, with others who
are in the same boat, those who want to
change course midstream, those who want to
tread water and those who are new to the game
rowing in circles with much enthusiasm, but little boatcraft


i, at present am resting oars, knowing this is the first
of many races, knowing the course, tho set, will change
when the students arrive, it is then the rapids come into play
and it is then, my energy, is required.

til then i cruise
and drink copious amounts of caffiene
in my air conditioned office....
watching the air, take dust motes,
for a ride.

Pearls remained on the silted floor
Dimmed rays cast over the abyss
As garlands cover the ceiling
The currents persist

Come forth and dance your ballet
And flow through the waves
In everlasting grace
And save me from my boredom

Burbles occur and the reef rejoices
As muffled voices
emanate from the heavens
For they are but dancers in the oceans

And we frown upon them

Hercules, my beautiful baby boy
With your corn silk hair of Samson
And small spaces between your teeth
The laughter that burbles forth
Clear and pure as water,
How much you have grown from
child to Man.

A fragile shoot into an oak tree.

You avoided Death’s jaws
By closing your tiny fists around them
Insanity bestowed as a gift for fighting
The animal within purging the blood.

And yet my poor child sent so many trials.
Your hair shorn
Looking like a prickly porcupine
But it was never about those locks
It was your heart.

A heavy burden to bear
And some are not equal to the task
They trip and drop them
Watch as the glass shatters

But you are half human
Yours does not break
The muscle rips and tears
Agonizing though it may be
It mends stronger each time.

Your cup overflows
And it feels like drowning
The highs that are tsunami waves
Lows become earthquakes
Shaking everything apart.

And this mother may only be mortal
But she reminds you that
Your hair will grow back
And so will your heart
Lovely as before.

night passes slowly,
the air conditioner hums and burbles.

he turns in bed
and the mattress wobbles.

from each point endless threads
span out in all directions.

I am not lost,
I have a wealth of choices.

my heavy, tense, vibrating heart
can soften and slow down.

each strand seems
like a feeble wisp

but eons are built
on this.

these paths
are enough.

the bed is still
and he sleeps.

the hum sings and gurgles
like a wise, rattling drone.

from here my freedom is infinite
yet each choice is the same.

peace comes only
when I accept it.

The liquid is surreal.
I thought this unnatural perfection was reserved for films flashing before your eyes,
But I couldn’t have been more wrong.
The water rushes freely, defying my imagination.
Triumphantly it flows contrasting the lazy trees it gives no heed.
Bursting over every obstacle, it
Caresses the mountainsides it calls home for just a moment,
Falling ever deeper into the gorges it crafts masterfully with time as its tool.
It ceases for no one and its color is unmatched.

O river of sweet liquid ice, I admire thee.
I stand on the edge of the riverbank and I marvel,
Time means nothing to the beings here.
The indigo fluid escapes grasping,
Like so many forgotten memories.
As my blurry cerulean reflection stares at me
I am conscious of the eras that have passed this place and left it untouched.
From whipped cream snow, to buttered sunshine days.
This setting transcends understanding.
There is no want for love,
No desire to sin or stay pure,
No lust for money or material worth.
I watch as the sun’s beams in their death throes
Discharge their savored finale upon the river.
It burbles back with a satisfied sigh.

Shadows envelop my wonderland, as I cascade into sleep.
Obstructed by the dams in my mind the despair builds into a reservoir.
Brimming, threatening to break, and I am
****** from my slumber.
Tears stream silently into the darkness
Escaping my overfull well.













Azure beams dance softly at first.
Anxiously they swim in their own light and
Suddenly come forth proclaiming their own birth.
Reveling in their existence as a new day starts, and
Again this place holds the power of ages.
They join me here, basking me in their glory, and
Out of the ashes of yesterday’s sorrows
Gushes a mighty river of joy.

I sit, I ponder, I wait.
My brain burbles with ramblings unceasingly and
bursting out in a flash of original thought
is the lightning and thunder
that breathes the primordial soup to life.

ARISE! great and small creatures
Clawing up from the depths of consciousness
Creatures of imagination dwelling in the soup of soul
POP out and bubble to the surface
stepping pioneer steps
Out into the world of the dead
to make the living
and arrest the minds of man as
I sit, I ponder, I wait.

The waves, they crash against the shore, if we came close we would be drowned.
Would there be a sound without the sand?

The brook so clear, it burbles, gurgles, rushes through the ground.
I wonder how it feels, so free, so in command.

The wind, so softly speaking so that it cannot be bound.
Does it breathe its breeze throughout the land?

And we, we ****, destroy and burn and expect to be crowned.
We couldn't do it better if we planned.

One day, the earth will be dead, and dry, with nothing to be found.
I hope that day that we will understand.

Everything I know
I am learning now, the
What why where and how
Subcutaneous instantaneous
Transliteration transcriptions

The you you don’t know undertow
Burbles beneath the underflow
Below Babel is the true power
Speaking truth beyond tower
Is the way to flow

Raindrops falling on the ground.....
Whirlpools that spin round and round...
Waterfalls , rivers , streams
Puddles , ocean and seas.

You know how it sounds during downpour?
Like pearls falling down from a necklace you adore.
Water droplets speak to each other in melody...
Sleeps during rainy nights are heavenly.

Overhear the conversation when two waves meet...
They speak a language that is way too sweet.

Ripples , trickles and burbles
Sploosh , slosh and gurgles....
Splish-splash and pitter-patter
I love the sound of water.

Grapes ripening in the sun and
the evening to sharpen my thirst,
farmhouse bread and milk churn
cheese,
these are the Summer things,

In the pastures cows cast shadows
that dance among the grass,

the trinket burbles as it bumbles along
to join with the river and rejoice in its
song,

these are the things that make me belong,

and wine.

the adams apple
bobs
like the water
is sloshing
the sides
and the heads
are slapping
against the
fine surface
that is festival

the red tinge
spreads as smooth
as butter
against the paleness
of your lips
and you smile
that icy
wax drawn
carriage
until your teeth
shine
as pale
as a fireflies
wing.

Carry on
let the hands
unfold
and twist
and turn
dance in the
glade
that holds you tight
and whisks you
like fine
yolk

the fairies
prattle
is unintelligable
but still
as sweet
as the
most brilliant
cake
their burbles
and blooms
and blusters
and blushes
are finite
and magnificent
fodder for your
cannons

for your heart beats

the poem escapes you
and your lips close
and a beat passes
in which the world
halts its turn
and in turn
hauls your
pretty little behind
out of the mess
you caused

don't say
we didn't
hold you
because
our fingerprints
are all
over
your
blushing
stagnant
muscles

twitch,
and the
fairies sing.

a sunshower burbles —

as it trades hemispheres

with the opposite side

of a street.

laid out bone-dry,

sped into the sheering turn

of a mountainous cloud.

the washed out curve

of a storm’s prophesied

color — left to unbox its monster.

commanding the ogling eyes

of fish schooling town.

their sloughing motions

opening and closing like

purple umbrellas —

prepared for a far off

land too near the refuse

of fading shelter.

the template of promise,

poring over unmanifest

milk and honey.

silence becoming the culmination

of a mass exodus —

a version of itself long

to roam.

until another version of

itself thoroughly destroys it.

all that would be the aghast

ramification of encounter…

disposed of as neatly as what

was, and then is not.

an unrestored space — where

there is not much to tell.

another purple entelechy

that went on as if

varied.

here is a whole…

that does not oversleep

when sounder than sleep.

resurrections are not singular

events — they can not be,

if death is to be revived

as much as exhausted.

which is that whole,

finally yielding no place —

where a storm’s color

may be prophesied.

gone too — purple entelechies…

gone too — The Purple Entelechy.