White ***** shimmering.
Making holes along the way.
Flickering the beach sand; out of the way.
Digging homes; dream hide away.
Tides rise, they drift away.
Side-to-side; their paws prints sway.
Hard-shell, then soft shell- the caste away.
It’s all such a beautiful display.
Move in all directions .
Smooth get away.
Cool beach sands.
Try knot to get carried away.
Simmering; the Chef Santee.
Save that for another day!
Back against the sands,
Busy day, clear waters; ahead,
smoother get away.

He says he can’t voice his thoughts
But wrote me a lullaby about landing planes
And the first time I heard it my feet were on his dash
And the windows were down.
He says he can’t voice his thoughts
So he steals mine and feels guilty
“I love you too’s” and “I miss you more’s”
“To the moon and back, baby.”
I know he can’t voice his thoughts
My stomach ties when his tongue does
High and dry, just try for me, darling,
Try to tell me everything I need to hear.
He can’t voice his thoughts,
But he always has a bow in his locker
and some nights
I have strings too.

(A wall with grainy, white tile misses being appreciated by the passive glance!)

This open Hotel window reveals the encasement of a city wearing its own
Labels stirring distinctly

Monochrome sculptures
Increasing eye the gradiant of
A voice
The dialogue of a coffin sleeping
And the
Waterfront smokes tired cruiselines and
Already wishes for Sundown & good spirits.

Some burdened Animal lept from
Its grindings of clean survival &
Has written an essay on

Fire in relation to psychological warmth
& the associative memory response to comfort

(The fireplace is your Childhood & lost Faerie Mother)

The lapse of this Tidal Concerto
As wet pebbles ripple over each other like Tokyo haircuts,

I am the collector of
Distant and missed opportunities

I keep them close as potentialities and not regrets

I have a fishtank full of drowned Bees
& phonecall revelations

As Humidity only sensed and not sweated
Boils from a desk drawer in the Summertime

LAUGHING STAIRCASES/
LOBOTOMY IN NIGHTMARES OF VICIOUS ORCHIDS/
THE CRIB HAS LOST ITS FUNCTION/

           A CRABSHELL HAS REPLACED
           THE PILLOW/
          
           MY TEETH ARE NUMB
           WITH YOUR KISS
          
           YOUR KISS ERASED BY
           THE SUDDEN SALTWATER OF A
           HIGHTENED MOMENT
          
           DO NOT RETREAT BACK TO
           BRASS SPEECH
           OR COMMON BELIEF


Stresses paused on
Gysins colorful meditations
& Nat King Cole sings of no
Orange Colored Sky instead
A silent rotating lightbulb
And the sensation of lifting off my chair

(few nights in a row of this ambience behind a glass door)

"-the illusion of existing on the edge of a comforting unalterable space and in being so close to it, I blend into it!
A man with a telescope residing on a mountain top can observe the town below in a detailed entirety. It's the larger and more obvious/physically active space. The mountain distant from the town is a space of reflection, where things are less chaotic. Where peace is more inwardly recognized in its external shelter. In the corner I have this illusory telescope and I am perched on the mountain, who's properties have flattened to the dimensions of a coffee shop, or a general interior. The wholeness of the mountain reserved to the confines of a dark corner. Behind the brickwork exists a vast valley where this mountain once stood in its humble yet ferocious silence. The space which now exists in an imaginary context. The expansion of darkness in front of us!"

           Come forth from that Mexican
           Practice
           Or the vengeance of a sobbing
           Hand,
           Friend

I, willing to play weary in
ur aztec smile/
Am to slip from a shivering
Elevator
To ***** my finger with a name

A name that I have never interacted with until now!

"UNE FEMME EST UNE FEMME"
Followed by gossiping
& accommodations
Downstairs,

I hope you wake easy to find my
Skinny hand warming you from December's hesitant grave.

The junk’s steam engine replaced with moving vent ***** the long ship glided from the mooring toward open water. Bob was on deck preparing to inform everyone of his scheme when from the dock came the cries of the little nun running at breakneck pace in her cumbersome black garb. Behind her and closing in a hostile mob carried raised torches and pitchforks in a sun being overshadowed by an ill-timed eclipse.
Several of the men swinging ropes as if a witch could be hanged more than once; but the vicious townsfolk were mistaken. Sister Ramera a faithful woman of god raised by nuns from birth and knowing no other way of life, was about to be lynched before their eyes as the ship slipped away from the dock. Using his distorter Bob was on the pier with the girl but now they were both cornered, open water at their backs.
Perry jumping across deck leapt into the Leaping Lizzie and brought her straight into the air. The townsfolk instantly distracted by the high oblong shadow with jointed tentacles for legs. The sounds of the screams outpaced the stampeding boots as every person fled in blind terror. Bringing the flying vessel gently to the dock Perry appeared from the hatch.
“It doesn’t look good for your friend, Bob. She’d better come with us. Her life is in certain danger if she stays here on Tierre Firme.”
“You heard the man, shall we go?” said Bob gamely.
Taking a last look at what would be her birthplace in another fifty years, Ramera saw the destroyed and satanically reconstructed brick church for what it really was; a dark pit leading to a darker emptiness. She had grown from an infant to a child into a woman. Now she was only a woman. The very last Hemera el Iglesia de Santa Papá Noel; the last Sister of the Order of Santa Santa. Bob and Perry assisting her into the crabshell, she settled in a heap of heavy black material as Perry took the controls and they lifted off. Perry and Bob eyeing one another knowing full well she wasn’t going to go around in habit and wimple. Ramera knew it too. What were Orders when there was no longer any order; when the devil had possessed the ground itself and turned the building into a synagogue of Satan.