Draped in fresh-knitted pearls
we traipsed
into saccharine peach orchard

The summer heat loped about our dew-kissed ******
****** - appropriated from dawn spent on neatly shorn plantation grass

Ambling into the knotted palatial arbor
we sat each in our own tree crux
behinds nestled upon ashen bark

Juice dripping in our grip
down our cast nets of flesh
sprawled about the branches
inset with gravity-defying liquescent orbs
dusted in translucent mink
painted with smears of
citrine, coral, amber, and ichorous
clinging to brass stem

The rondures secede to mandible
taut between palms pull and polished ivories
- torn-

Fluent in dulcet discourse
We cloak ourselves in provocative juice tatting
Until such time that our congealing garments
were found mapping the bark's topography
A saccharine map to the breath of soil

Bloodstone ants found our map
and had begun traversing - portent
to seize our treasure

We surrendered our jewelled cages
and took flight
to the sun-drunken lake to bathe
and swim
until heavy lids kissed moistly
heavily supped on the draught
sleep - beckoned transience

Back in the days when
my friend Grisham John
started as a teenage artist,  he was poor
and had but onions and yogurt for meals;
and once he stole some paint
from the local corner shop

"Aha, caught you red-handed,"
said the cliche-infested store-owner
"Give me a reason
why I should not call the police"

"Well," said John Grisham
****-sure of his talent
"I can immortalize you as 'Scrooge in Red'
or 'Generosity in Psychedelic'
You choose..."

----------------------------------------------------­-----
so when Grisham John comes to
your town,  look out for,
amongst his exhibits:
*"Generosity in Psychedelic
with inset of Scrooge in Red"

I’ll not take your time, beyond what the need,
To relate to you a story and deed
As there’s no one else to plea this decree …
For just I survived, don’t you see.

I’m an old man, with a mind full of mist
But details of that night in my mind still exist
As vivid and clear, both sharp and exact
No, no mist there – all of it’s fact!

When I was young, and adventure routine,
With excitement and newness still unforeseen
I was eager to spread my wings to the world
And seek more adventures as those wings unfurled

Within my long travels I happened to meet
Two other men, with friendships replete
One was named Beckett, the other one Flynn
And better friends there never have been.

Beckett was tall – an athletic type
While Flynn, the scholar, more of pinstripe
Pinstripe or athlete – it mattered not
It was our essence together and that which it wrought.

Engaged were we in all daring do
High on the mountains, and under seas, too,
We crossed dry deserts, and jungles of green
And other adventures there in between.

We’d been together, t’was our sixth year,
And still our adventures made us cohere
To every madness – to every rave …
Until we decided to enter The Cave.

We discussed the encounter and planning for weeks
And assembled equipment – some new, some antiques
Until at last the day it arrived …
And our excitement?  It still there survived.

The map we used, was bought from a guide
Who told my friend, Flynn: “Don’t go inside”
When he had learned of our journey’s intent:
To enter The Cave, and begin our descent.

The guides’ words, had given us pause
We had thought: What was his reason or cause?
But … dismissed were his words of advice
We had each other … and that would suffice.

With ropes and lantern-hats and other such gear
It was into The Cave we then disappeared.
The light from our lanterns speared into the dark
We spoke very little - made no remark.

Onward, downward, in blackness we went
Placing out markers for our later ascent
The sounds of our footsteps, and scraping of walls
Reverberated ‘round us – as echoed recalls

In about six hours, or maybe ‘twas more
We encountered water upon The Cave floor
And there all around were beautiful shapes
Never were seen such gorgeous landscapes

Stalactites, stalagmites and mineral mounds
And dripping water with its’ “plopping” sounds
Pinks, violets and shades of green hues
And small salamanders made their debuts

We found a small dry spot and then we assessed
This was a place we could stop now to rest.
I turned up my lantern, and took off my hat,
When Beckett said: “Hey.  Did you just hear that?”

I moved not a muscle, and my ears went to strain.
All I could hear were the droplets, like rain.
Then from The Cave’s bowels came a loud din
I continued to listen – then heard it again.

We looked at each other, but said not a word
Confused and startled by what we’d just heard
It wasn’t a moan, it wasn’t a gasp
But more rather like a guttural rasp

One thing was certain, it wasn’t of stone
That could create sounds while standing alone
T’was our discussion, from which to derive:
The source of the sound was something … alive.

Then from The Cave’s deepened black hole
Came again sounds from a source with no soul
The sound was menacing, and one I despise,
I watched the fear grow within my friends’ eyes.

Instinctively, we three then moved as one
In that instant – our re-ascent had begun
I had been last in the line coming down
Now I’d be the first to reach the “above-ground”.

Quickly my feet in the lead, lead the way
Flynn, right behind had nothing to say
My friend Beckett, brought up the rear
And in that position had the greatest to fear

The lamp on my hat pierced through the black
And I looked for our markers to lead us back
To save our strength, nothing was said
Again - the loud sound that filled me with dread.

The sound became louder and closer it be
And I moved faster through the black before me
I could hear Flynn’s breathing, so close behind
I tried to concentrate on the markers to find

Somewhere behind me, then snarls I heard
Loud and vicious, run together and blurred
Close … so close … the beast was so near
Adrenalin rushed through me to react to my fear

T’was then I was hit with an overpowering stench
The smell caused my stomach to turn and to wrench
The odor blew past me, and I knew t’was the breath
Of the Beast of The Cave – its’ oder of death.

I was near running, but down on all fours
Sweat was streaming from all of my pores.
Then I heard those terrible screams
The ones I keep hearing in all of my dreams

It was Beckett I knew in his shocked agony
Midst the snarled snapping of jaws I can’t see
I heard bones cracking and squishing of flesh
And the fear within me gave new strength afresh

My fingers were raw from grabbing the rock
But on moving forward my mind had its’ lock
My stomach still queasy from the stench of the beast
I knew it was finishing its’ beastly feast

I knew, too, t’was only a matter of time
When the beast would return - I had to climb!
I heard Flynn say: “IT’S COMING AGAIN!”
Again was a surge of my fear deep within.

I heard once more the beast from behind
And fought the panic taking over my mind
Something heavy struck against The Cave’s walls
The kind of sounds that ghastly appalls:

A scraping of talons of heavy clawed feet
Caused my heart to double its’ beat
I had the feeling that Flynn lagged behind
I screamed my urgings loud and maligned:

“Flynn!  Flynn!  Catch up to me!”
But took not the time to look back and see
For the beasts’ crashing against The Cave’s face
Told me it neared – and was re-gaining the race

My knee hit a rock, and my balance was lost!
I fell to the ground, and then feared the cost
In losing the time in scrambling free
Again sheer panic stabbed into me.

In less than an instant, Flynn was there too,
His face in my light was of a strange hue
And as he helped me get back to my feet …
Flynn turned around – t’was The Beast there to meet.

The stench overwhelming, but the sight was much worse
There standing before us: The beastly curse
Of overlapping scales in shades of dark gray
The rest of its’ body concealed in umbrae

But its’ eyes … its’ eyes … I’ll never forget
Rheumatoid yellow, and deeply inset
Its’ reptilian lids blinked just one time
‘Fore its’ lips peeled back - revealing the slime

Glistening yellow over dagger-like teeth
Then oozed from its’ mouth to fall there beneath.
The beast reared up, then we saw its’ claws
Sharp and deadly within its’ forepaws

Towering above us, no sound the beast made
On beams of our light had his gaze stayed.
Unexpectedly Flynn then turned and faced me
… With less blinding light, the beast could again see

Why Flynn had turned I never will know
For the beast bit him in two, at his torso
And I was looking at Flynn – direct in his face
When the beasts’ bite his life did erase.

I screamed, and instantly away did I run
Away from the beast, and dead companion
Through the price of Flynn’s life, more time had been bought
To reach The Cave’s entrance – the goal that I sought

Running wildly, several times did I fall
Toppling did not my mission forestall
The beast I knew still somewhere behind
Drove me on forward with my frantic mind

I heard its’ clawed talons scraping the wall
And prayed I’d not again stumble and fall
Then, up ahead, a small opening I viewed
And I saw my chance, with hope there exude

Twelve feet … six feet … then it was three
But the beast and its’ stench was there behind me
I dove through the rock opening, scraping my head
But better that injury than ending up dead

I was elated, and about to rejoice
I then heard a scream – it was my own voice!
In my leg erupted intense blinding pain
Looking down I saw the bloodstain

My leg, through the opening, still was stuck out
There was but split-seconds, before I’d lose it no doubt
I pulled my leg back, and in but a flash
My shoe was removed by a clawed talon slash

I crawled back from the opening, then I could see
My wound was deep, from ankle to knee
Then suddenly through the opening came
A clawed talon whose aim was to maim

I quickly withdrew out of its’ reach
As claws shot through the openings’ breech
The opening too small, for continued rampage
And the beast began then to voice its’ outrage

It’s deafening roars assaulted my ears
Echoed Cave chambers and in my mind did adhere
I began attending unto my grave wound
Knowing I now was no longer marooned.

T’was another hour ‘fore I crawled out The Cave
But many days ‘fore I’d shed the shockwave
Of what had transpired, and what I had seen
And my damaged leg was lost to gangrene.

Now sleep evades me, for my horrible dreams
Show beams of light, and unearthly screams
Of Beckett and Flynn and The Cave we were in
I know tonight, I’ll re-live it again.

So, now you’ve the story, you’ve heard the deed
I swear is the truth I’ve herein decreed
And Beckett and Flynn are enslaved in their grave
And I lost my leg to the Beast of The Cave.

I'm so tired O,
tell me a man would sleep
til dinner time.
Tell me a woman would sleep
til tea.
But I shan't be able to sleep
past the sunrise, no.
Not as long as the water is wet;
so long as it sits in the sea.
D'ud'r de amish kam ihkazee.
De darken'd cam-ami'zeen.
All running over the inset pain relieving incantations.
Through the traces of several places
as we crawl into the stove.
Half alive, half steryl
like the pages of a magazine.

Goals to set so dance to fret
Painting cloaks to taste regret
Flames to let, consume, forget

Absent embers coals inset


Glimmers splinter, minds are deep
Shackle shambles, just to sleep
Jaded gazes, thoughts that seep

Lacking warming spiteful meek

The first few steps
Faltering and low
Increase to many
First to South and then to West
Cross the mountain stream and trail
Road and track and gritted path
Alone the tread far measured pace
Onwards relentless
Walk each one another says....
Think of the others
Ten million strong
Who walked this path
Who thought your thoughts
Trod your steps
Believed your mind
Bled your blood
Shed your tears...

Where am I now
Where is that life
That passed before
My trail worn eyes
The thoughts of home
The warm glow of
A land where all
My troubles lay
Far distant shore
Land where my birth
Passed unseen moment
Long and twisted
Trail to a nexus far
From any sight that knew me
Striding onwards
Twisted thought
I am travelling
But not moving
Through the dust and
Inset memory

I am a pilgrim
With my tread
I make that mark
Where others follow
Thinking thoughts of home and fields
Eyes bright tears
Lip a quiver
Where am I now
Upon those fields
Sat in that land
Of once I dreamed
Sat in that land
And not content
To walk the fields and smell the earth
My feet stride forth
My thoughts reach out
I am not here
Where am I
I am not here
I walk the Camino still

What I remember most is the ghost I left in the North that day
And how you agreed to drive--I almost didn't believe it
Not only not my body but not my soul, so what better an anchor?
Not my home and not my world--what better an anchor?

I-5 South to 405 driving like nothing, but leaving a smoke trail
S.O.S. outbound in denial with no signal return
Smiling beside the driver unknowingly burning, unknowingly smoking out

Could you respectfully decline an offer to wipe your feet clean at the door?
Outbound there's nothing that changes but the fear inset and instilled
It's just a portal
Could you respectfully decline an opening to escape with your devils moored?
Outbound it's better than ever if you'll accept it's not running away
Doorways are just portals

swift inset of love's Sanskrit,
a thorn of contestations.

make cadence this sensorial music.
centrifugally waiting bodies
to cross Earths.

a plethora of annulments.
lion-telling Sun singes through intersections of infinities:

we cannot wait to quash
the morning, the scent of guava leaves
and the cerement of flour on chicken.
earth-hewn mounds of meat pressed
against beholden kitchen clangor.

declension of memory past wood
and pillars of home. lattices of light
forerunning fingers, let down the curtain.
wind swings with maddened turbine,
afternoons high with deadlock.

of all that is not here, the force
reawakens a long-stumped ******,
beating us back to edges ruthless
with angels entirely curved, singled-out,
wings clipped, dancing at the tip
   of the candleflame.

solid lines of hollow words grace the silent light that cascades from the shadows i once use to call home; but all that is left inside are memories that don't even recall where they're from, too

lost, like me, i drift away thinking, sinking in the fade of the background noise in an empty room and even emptier heart, "what have i done to deserve this?"

in sombre tones of misery brought by the face of cowards gnawing at my bones, like winter's cold their words sink in, devastating the sanctity of what hope is left to hold onto

desolation my only true friend, i could always count on knowing nobody would be there, and silence became the last sound i ever heard beyond the heavy expulsion of tears drizzling upon a worthless desk of crushed dreams - beheld, a misery so deep and vast, the mind rots waiting to surmise even the faintest bit of truth in a purpose to be alive at all

never once would defeating pleas make a difference to the blank faces and inset scars running across my skin, because even in a thousand years time spent in either company, the embrace of a blade would always be more welcoming than the sound of their voice, let alone the mere knowledge of their existence

but it was always my existence i got upset about, most

We loved you
Pumpkin pie

And you
Bahzie boy

My bridge to the
Equine kingdom

Mitten, you made
My wife like cats

Begins a tragedy of three
A tale of other kitties

Stanley wandered too far
A tragedy of traffic

Babad not as far…
Both waited for us

No one wants to die alone
But still, we’ve been blessed

Goldie, I’m glad
You loved me

Little dog with
A heart too big

Thank you, Sue
For trusting us with Trudy

What a lucky man I am
To garner such love and trust

And of course, biggie guy,
He who once was named Hunter:

Gunther.
(Inset sadness here)

Chessy taught responsibility
With insulin shots at 6 & 6

Tristan y Isolde
(Stanley and Zolda)

Operatic lives lived
As comedy/tragedy

And, et-hem; yes
Even you, Ms. Berry

Past denizens
Of Chateau Flobo

Let’s not not leave out
The current cohorts:

Free spirit, wild child
Lucky Ducky

Biggie boy found you
You adopted us

Ms. Black-in-the-box
Moved herself in

And Fred—well,
Fred is just being Fred

They all found us
Not the other way around

From a big family,
We’ve loved/love a big family

Alveolate webbed iron cache
Contouring inset chromatic fused sand panes
Luminous descants evade entombed air and grit
Perhaps before the air was arrogated into silicated chassis
It circumnavigated the alveolate resonant lattice chamber of its creator

Wish i knew what to say or how to lift weight but remember, you are as you think. and i know it's hard, sometimes, to see the light that casts shade seemingly everywhere, but it can be as simple as turning eyes to the great warmth floating up on the sky and knowin' life is a joke if you make it through laughing, right?
we skim, as so many stones, on an endless pond's vague and indifferent face, more directions to feel than anyone can see, and lay, cold n warm, in alternate takes. but time continues inerrant, and the world slips through the sheets of everything, as always. through the bent sheathes, somehow, i felt the great warmth: now, not the cardboard circle in the sky, but inset, on firm land, lapping in waves, far over and under each depth; right down to the last, misery, where sometimes i sit and wait, knowing you visit, too.
so keep lifting yr lips and
  tryin' to swim, and
i'll do the same,
                      okay?

Love remembered
The widow of a navy seal her face shows the fresh sorrow the tears are barley held back loss registers a
Hero has gone her eyes and face are drawn tight they keep the emotional depths in check at least for
The moment the camera clicks her photo his picture inset to the side walk memories path they held
Hands energy flowed between them in blessed wave’s military honor and duty produced the highest
Bond the mixture of God and country was their identifying striving marks sacrifice the high banner
Unfurled over their lives a constant companion now for her she must seek solace within its folds their
Home family and friends are its deep rich fabric it holds riches great enough that a man will lay his life
Down under its shadow he a light pushing back evils darkness at perils head now he lies dead sadly she
Will feel twisted every tear will be rung from her soul such is the price of all of our freedom her life now
A burning torch within its blaze his face will always have the highest golden glow it will in time will warm
The now very cold recesses that produce such pain and sorrow her smile will always contain a measure
Of sorrow this is the enriching of us all every moment of joy we spend with our loved ones will be
Payment and our undying thanks for those who fight and die and those that bare the brunt in liberties
Shinning land never will it die the tide will always be resisted in the extreme by the brave and true and the
Greatest among U.S.

People don't understand
how lonely it is to be a kid
so two of the loneliest
into a soft bed slid

soft kisses
mixed with hard hearts
she took the lead
and we played our parts

we learned in lust
we moved in motion
how could either foresee
the lurking inset emotion

a heart won't ache
unless it was made to feel
and a heart won't long
unless that feeling was real

so we go to sleep
longing a body to hold
our beds far too empty
our sheets have grown cold

but I won't regret
those things that we did
because for just a second
I wasn't such a lonely kid

I have no need to watch the time,
Or placate you for my Valentine,
Or yell out '****, that *** is fine!'
Because darling, you're already mine.
A better man I could never find
With manners, wit, and charm divine
A mischievous imp who laughs at time;
A man with the most wondrous mind.
My darling dear, I'll flatter you yet!
Until those ears hear and dont forget
That you're a shining gem, inset
In mem'ry- from the day we met.
For a thousand times, and a thousand more
You've rescued me from worries sore,
Held me gently as I scraped the floor-
Gave me love I couldn't ask you for;
Drained my sorrows and changed my hue,
Told me firmly there was more to do,
Til all the years ahead looked new
Because I get to spend them with you.
So my handsome gent
I hope you don't resent
This flattery, though true;
Because honey,
I know-
There's no one better than you.

the ghosts of many days.

here are the many eyes insidiously cutting through insides, gutting them out of their poisons and their moribund steps, assuaging none.

before the step was the flesh,
and before flesh was the emptiness,
keen with its marble eyes
like sizing down an already
thwarted opponent.

these pallid-faced buildings
peer through the sleepless concrete
like fathers searching for children.
like crows scavenging for
truths behind myriad lies of death.

here comes the marauder thieving
again, the gutter's chagrin.
underneath stirs the deathly
**** of rats, the deep inset
of petrichor hiding behind
the overcast of a death foretold.
streets continue to emblazon
their nameless turns:
George Street bayoneting through
Pitt as a ragamuffin dog slithers
past Castlereagh, scrounging for
bones with forgotten pains.

the ghosts of many days
weaving the loom of sky
tender with sound of labyrinthine
flapping through the hollow
of dawn as my fingers
clash in battle, rearing this nailed triumph.

apparitions tracking me down,
chasing me with vivid light
through uneventful avenues
forking without meaning
past the hammered cinders,
away from the frozen barricades
in stiffening cold,

ghosts of many days
coming back with unprompted tongues
and their pertinacious susurrus.

The widow of a navy seal her face shows the fresh sorrow the tears are barley held back loss registers a
Hero has gone her eyes and face are drawn tight they keep the emotional depths in check at least for
The moment the camera clicks her photo his picture inset to the side walk memories path they held
Hands energy flowed between them in blessed wave’s military honor and duty produced the highest
Bond the mixture of God and country was their identifying striving marks sacrifice the high banner
Unfurled over their lives a constant companion now for her she must seek solace within its folds their
Home family and friends are its deep rich fabric it holds riches great enough that a man will lay his life
Down under its shadow he a light pushing back evils darkness at perils head now he lies dead sadly she
Will feel twisted every tear will be rung from her soul such is the price of all of our freedom her life now
A burning torch within its blaze his face will always have the highest golden glow it will in time will warm
The now very cold recesses that produce such pain and sorrow her smile will always contain a measure
Of sorrow this is the enriching of us all every moment of joy we spend with our loved ones will be
Payment and our undying thanks for those who fight and die and those that bare the brunt in liberties
Shinning land never will it die the tide will always be resisted in the extreme by the brave and true and the
Greatest among U.S.

the afternoon's gravest inset
into a summation of yellow—

all strangeness purely sing
mellow of birds,
cacophony of trees,
the automaton shadow
fleeting underneath the shade of brows
and foetal natures
candidly bring

a yellow
   in all of the afternoon.

rain glistens the gray face
of asphalt in this lurid eve

as the trickle-song thumps
the chords of metal,
the frequent hum of a passing mobile, a trembling moth in sight
pursuing the stillness of this
      eve

i remember once my hands touched
multipliedly the work of bone.

this too i remember: when you
were hesitant to say anything
yet eyes were as consenting
as a portent of rain, and as crude
as any language shouted
in between the rift of river
and hill -- there is much to remember in the field tumescent
with aromatic carnality.

it is without speech that everything desperately tries
to signal me something incipient
like an unknown flowering left
to be unearthed.

tonight it rains endless
with memory. the moth
unfolds its fictile allegory
without having to cocoon
around an unfazed inset of hot glow
in this eve of reminiscences
summoning you through
this flight of esoteric moth,
through the rain and its ephemeral burst of bloodless ripple,
through the sensual globules
of lampposts telling me of
a once familiar batting of eyes
and disappearance of darknesses

when our bodies made fire
during the eve of our discoveries.

Sweet Mary Jane hid a
hacksaw blade inside
a fudge cake.

Traditional Barmbracks ie.
(Irish: bairín breac), had a
ring, rag, pea and stick inset.

I got a secret note from the
baker, which she concealed
between two buttered slices.

Under a tiny cocktail tomato,
looking like a cherry, it said,
"Would you like to eat me".

Kite amiss a diamond ditch
likely eve hit the high note
but yet its always tisk tisk
another round to plagiarize
statements i've made inside
but hey its nice to poltergeist
play the rise in fates demise
lay inset those fictions
pest of dressed conviction
excess excellence on stressed
conviction dressed to distant
messes listed full oppressed
i'm in my head a rhythm
scismic rynosseros's liquids
insistent upon a ditches listed
may it be that ive been twisted
never yet toward the morse
implored to best conform a
mission miss the less detest
excess in stresses nexus livid
forms of death ive misfit

congested
obsessed with
a girl
ive never met
slips of paper
by my bed
lifted debt
an all opressed
is a twine
of darkened
sine rhyming all
the night of
destines dimes a
mentioned kind
of less defined
beset those limits
dont fret forgivness

collected ashes practiced forth
addict often rancid earth lavash
personal draft lasted laxin birth
actions ive hasent yet mansion
first is the tragics then savages
church inset fashasts passive
quirks in the static perks relax
i got half a havoc in stashes
massive in classics of traffic
lex in the luther predator stupper
seminol truth erks in fences over
my pencil posture poser is best
of the rested introductive relent