"The thought of  the future we will never have was pollinating foul fuzzy particles in the air, slowly following the wake of all those tasseled dreams I had held onto for all those years but had to let go."

The most intimate revelations can often expose plagiaristic suppressions that we've most likely tried to already forget. Suggesting to anyone on the outside looking in, that there is a rancid cowardice secreting from the pores of all those who would deny the most basic of fundamental decencies to their fellow man.

All the while, boasting a loud tolerance that would be found on the very last Autumn-the very last colorful arrangements of watering oranges and smothered reds our world was ever going to be privileged to witness again.
The thundering drumming of my own beating heart gave my freshly dead and bland reaction a neon personality, with a few extra *******, lingering, successful gestures that reflected a sparkly prism of tracers.

Tracers that were birthed from the most brilliant of lasers, as I was radiating something that was blindingly gorgeous, something that was heightened with more sensitivity as it shadowed over the complexity of every kiss that I had ever been given in my life..

Spinning a silk and gold web around me that was almost as intricate as an alarm sounding earth quake.

This flaccidly tight response came at a price, leaving nothing but whispers and the wrong kind of impressions at the sight of  it's unwanted face..

The time of dignity and grace felt decades away as your tiny little temperaments began to attempt to soothe me into a very still silence.

"Wooing" me and "seducing" me with such a strong touch of romantic readiness, I knew it would never be matched or found again causing me to feel a stroke of sadness at the single sentiment.  

This dramatic departure killed any interest that might have supported the abortive sorrows and short winded elation’s of men, but instead the idea of a possibly new tasseled dream, sparked me into a shimmering prism bouncing glittering, glimmering, glowing rays off my skin, as I put the shine in the sun.

why I love certain men


it’s a raining and writing Saturday,
a washout for the beach visitors who chose their
calendar lottery tickets poorly

but hurrah and huzzah for the poet
in the no-sun-today-room with
steam collecting on his face from his 20 oz. Canadian mug,
the rest of him cozied neath a
wooly mohair knitted and tasseled blanket,
from a now naked and shivering alpaca goat in Turkey or Tibet

perhaps we’ll make a tiny dent
in the 1319 poems,
in the ‘sorta started to do’ list

****.
new one sneaks in demanding immediate satisfaction
and threatening my mind’s incarceration unless,
serviced and unleashed as the Frenchies say

Frites, immédiatement!: (french fries, now!)

I love most men; certain men more than others,
not because they are soft to the touch,
look great in thigh highs, can fix a backhoe,
lay hands on animals, just as they do upon their grandchildren,
or write better poetry than me,
because
they make me weep from zealous delight at
their capricious unprecedented constancy of their
honorable actions

they are soft to the core, which is itself
wrapped in a leather soldered steel,
which defines them by their self-questing constant,
asking themselves preface and postface,
doing it well, in between,

what is the honorable thing?

this honor idea of which writ previous
doesn’t dissolve - indeed grows crescendo stronger,
like the miracle of the Yom Kippurs rams horn
crying out to heavens at the concluding end  
on the holiest judgement day,
a shofar miracle for it inhumanly grows ever louder,
ceasing only when nightfall marks a new day begun,
reminding both sinners and saviour each,
to inquire of their colluding selves on this forgiveness-giving day,

what is the honorable thing?

some are borrowers and some lenders,
of anything, the substance or the whom matters not,
but the bonding bonfire from which the deal is done,
is of a uncharted organic chemical matter unrecognized
but millennium ancient


here I stop

the call to breakfast must be obeyed,
for it’s with lovely made, menu man-poet requested,
this is too an honorable thing to do,
and the 1319 half blood~half writs poking my eyes,
can be faced with new courage afterwards
on a perfect raining and writing Summer Saturday
for the next one hopefully and woefully

may not come till the September (Rosh Hashanah/Jewish New Year) when acorns fall

certain men will greet that fall Sabbath/ New Years Day,  
when Atonement begins, a ten day process to the final conclusion,
by asking of everything living and of every act human performed,
for the forgiveness requested inherent in the absolute bar setting of

what is the honorable thing?

which by the by,

is why I love certain women too...

and all who are honorable
will read this honorific and remain
clueless as to whom it is addressed...

oh god, I do so love that best!

what could signal honor even more...

Touch it: it won't shrink like an eyeball,
This egg-shaped bailiwick, clear as a tear.
Here's yesterday, last year ---
Palm-spear and lily distinct as flora in the vast
Windless threadwork of a tapestry.

Flick the glass with your fingernail:
It will ping like a Chinese chime in the slightest air stir
Though nobody in there looks up or bothers to answer.
The inhabitants are light as cork,
Every one of them permanently busy.

At their feet, the sea waves bow in single file.
Never trespassing in bad temper:
Stalling in midair,
Short-reined, pawing like paradeground horses.
Overhead, the clouds sit tasseled and fancy

As Victorian cushions. This family
Of valentine faces might please a collector:
They ring true, like good china.

Elsewhere the landscape is more frank.
The light falls without letup, blindingly.

A woman is dragging her shadow in a circle
About a bald hospital saucer.
It resembles the moon, or a sheet of blank paper
And appears to have suffered a sort of private blitzkrieg.
She lives quietly

With no attachments, like a foetus in a bottle,
The obsolete house, the sea, flattened to a picture
She has one too many dimensions to enter.
Grief and anger, exorcised,
Leave her alone now.

The future is a grey seagull
Tattling in its cat-voice of departure.
Age and terror, like nurses, attend her,
And a drowned man, complaining of the great cold,
Crawls up out of the sea.

******* in you nose can do that,
This is the rosebush, the fuschia,
the striding spiderweb of summer.
Your trees from the ocean and sky,
and sepals turned sences.
A spindle-spinning wheel,
turning sunflowers to liquid honey,
yum - yum - yum !
Oh the tastes of nature,
hidden in burrow holes,
with small mice chittering their teeth,
through chestnut temples!
A crucified sunflower, soft-spoken ochre,
the pumpkins turning fields to dust
and growing seeds of castles.
Three blades of grass in
tasseled soil.
Three green-squash faces
among the fields burgundy,
growing eyeballs.
Viola splashes wave,
Palo Santo fragrance,
Filling the nostrils with
Happiness!
Day-to-day ecstatic twirls
Twists and twirls,
a steep staircase to
the waterfall's epicenter.
The soul of the falls tumbling
across the sealed creek,
oiled with the feathers of soils.
The queen of frozen loganberries
gazes with approval,
watching seperate streams congeal, spiral,
and form starry nights
beneath the sky.
Lime scent comforting
the ☀ of rivers!

*Written by: Lotus and Simon

Remember the days of easy innocence, where summer was our whiskey
The sky of red and orange and pale purple as the sun set was intoxicating

"Light the fire!" she cries, her hair a golden flame of itself, tasseled and wild-
"Lord of the flies," now she cries, "lord of the flies"

And sometimes we'd be alone but never lonely
Or at least we never realized
Lady Southwest with the chestnut eyes
She's missed it all but somehow endured-

And here I am
I linger on the wonder of little things, and hide behind my boundaries with thoughts that nothing could ever harm me, here

Your forked soul and tasseled persona,
Penetrated through the orifice of anomaly;
Intelligible; Marked by an insane cognition,
Quadrangle of engrossment preceded by revolutions.
~F.A

It's now or never what awaits
Gin is forever like her collagen of skin
the wanting how her prayers got answered
The (Him) the (I-phone) not my (Apple)
My blessings I got my miracle how fate
sipped me in with my best friend
                        (Gin)
The sip loving him  gin is her oxygen
All cravings from the countries
Native American, Latin American
Afro American, and The North American
The Hotel going to all the meetings
At the Sheraton
my lip to his sunset
Makes a world of her savings

Meets to my original
Tastebuds petals
and sprinkles like bling
Watering my rosebuds
So many brands but
Modern twist
Portugal Spanish
olives trees could sing

Cat nine lives versus her
Gin of love doves pleas

Scratch me lucky seven
But  conventional
Love-seat sectional
Him- I- Gin lets be

((Gin Rational))

Like the pixel living
more with a sweet taste
Stirring and purring Cat
I-Gin him the mighty morsel
Playing black-Jack
She had the best cards
Gin* I * pack
The game is pouring
the poker lip scouring

The origin of Dracula Bram Stoker
Her wavy hair red-hot tasseled
Like waves of (Gin) rippled
She mingled like" I- Gin"
But she was more mortal
Are we on air 2 win
The News over dripping
Hot Gin story him side-slip
National sip velvet whole lip
The warmth going down
The gin was magical potent
All exotic types she dressed
in stripes
Not the American Flag

The European sip of the Gin
Meeting her man
Weaving through the warmth
Juniper Glamped Gin camper
He's so defined in his character
Gin all him her floret trim glass

The process takes time
Gin- Boss Italian glass
Florence blown
Newfangled  or seductively
Flagged in bangled worn

Entirely subjective
The Europeans Industry
Origin of the whole dynasty
Juniper berries
Like a Junior virginity-Gin
Or him___?
Far from New York City
His flight first class (Gin)
and only him
Butterflies look divine on
her breast
Like the Gin and Science test
Her cherries in her Gin Drink
His theories in his Manly winks

The gin so medicinal
How it ward off malaria
She drinks to her delicately
tone body All God-lit
Her swiftly steps fit
Shes all heart like the ballerina
She is the Grace of the gin drink
The new look on her face
The purest wings fly the best
Our time of the Origin

Women and Men start now to begin
Dressed up new technology generation
The Gin of romance mission
The next pour dripping
intense torrential rain
For the single- set such potential
The married couple drenching
drink wet was more primal

The Gin couple was immaculate
never late
They won the bet that's
Gin-like no other fate

It is in my conscious stream to speak of restricted words
the kind, that hang off  your two separate lips quietly
that usually hold hands in that scrutinizing silence
the beauty of these two things my eyes find hard to hold

may you come to me on blazed days, and shivered nights
with the wisdom of owls, and teach me all the things life has taught you
and show me your scars from that faint childhood
and tell me about the beautiful lands you wish to immerse your body into


may I be blessed enough, that you - glorious you
sacrifice your time to simply stare at the immense turquoise of the sea with me
the veins in a leaf, the memories written on tomb stones

I hope to figure out the secret paths of your garden labyrinth  
to find your white beaches and leave but a footprint upon the shore of your inner arms

at night, I find the most joy in asking you to look at the stars
for when met with your eyes, they burn brighter and become shy with your beauty
they scatter and hide behind each other. The moon envies me.
She dances in the sky
gloriously.  

your hair unravels like a bush of silk
harmoniously tasseled out in the sun and when you smile
fruits of labor fall off the corners of your comely mouth
all of natures most passionate things are instilled in you
you are every season of the year
every phase of the moon and rotation of the sun
the rain that I stand under
the waterfall I fall asleep too
the immense darkness of the night that inspires me

your eyes taut, like black diamonds - your tears benitoite
even that from you is something to be admired
I wish to be a leafless tree standing somewhere
in the outskirts of your world

the fabric of her dress
clinging to a garden
of flowers
holding the contours
of her landscape
with blends
around the corner bush
for his pleasing material eye
she spreads
tempestuous the vine
colors of the rainbow
arching
along
contemporaneous
as the wallflower awakens
to the erecting wall
and winding trellises
tasseled are the tongues
as the songbirds
come to coo

Logan Robertson

3/19/2019

Lamppost of crystal's
shadow light
It's me against me
shadow-fight
Looking out my window
I see the field
I am sitting with
my napkin fold.

Words moved__
unbelievably**

Looking at my ring hot steam
Exploded so conceivable
Did I imagine?
So intricate and fine
But invisible, in the tile cracks.
I can see a shadow face.
Please get him out of my South
Hampton house.
He's so out of place.
I never want to see his shadow face.
So swiftly shopping fighting the crowd
hunk's of  *** all over the City

I'm sold congratulations, I win me
Harry Winston diamond.
Jarod was fighting, with my jewel's.
On the titanic vessel
Something shadowing your Pupils

Exploring love at any cost
picking up the artist
historical love fossil?
He  gave her a necklace from
the shadow of his smile
exquisitely detailed tasseled

My lover tilt's me forward.
I go toward the  light Shadow fight
Hansel sometimes loves brutal
So gone Girl Gretel.
Someone is following me,
in my shadow

I was holding, Twin set croissant's
I see his sun-shadow, in the meadow
Hello, it's Me
and my shadow
The cafe black-catsuit,
he's jumping over my latte
So suited like a checkerboard
cake pursuit
So lucky me shadow kiss fairies
and elves.
Something moved me going through
my Carbanet shelf's 

Surprisingly angry. Oh! My
He's hungry
Beastly
Feastly
Shocked Ghostly
The Dutchess of Windsor

All I will be is this shadow
hanging with
  his ***** laundry

Model shoot fighting dart
Victoria secret *******
The best  silken qualities
Breaking into my house.
Was my spouse?
shadowed by too many boxers
GQ models "Guilty "Quarantine"
I'm dreaming White no shadows
of Christmas
Like an oracle of the ornament's
his shadow lip's
looking behind a cup
My mind boiled coffee grind
  every  second, broken record
I am the singer I  say hello shadow
hit my vocal chords made
the record

Robin red breast bird frantic
Sometimes life is cruel desperately
seeking  housewives  of New Jersey
Such high taxes
Getting hooked on Prozac- cheater faxes
The Christmas tree so ******* towers

Too many Jack shining, all writer's
winning April showers
Penpals writers and fighters

 African violets artist booming with
  lover's kisses seem's ingenious
But I'm not listening

His shadow follow's me I fight back
Somehow like I am pacing toward the
    Gotham city bat eye winged the
train track. The speed of heart attack
       "Crystal's Powers Comeback"
  So transparent batman flying so defiant.
Fairies with lucidity his shadow hot crime.
Right  at the same time
How I wished I was overlooking the water,
with my  Key -lime pie.
Please don't  shadow me
Or lie to me
To rob me again.
What's to gain, your invisible men
Met my virginity key.
Looking out my window

Face touched my back
monster vision,
not exactly love infusion.
I felt like I was having a
blood transfusion.

Sun-catcher caught my eye's dreamy
mad-hatter meadow
Mobster Gotti. Shadow proof

what about the book proof.
So vividly,
shooting, at windows,
cherry tree lost its shadow.
Ancestor's sign's leaves fight family
from the distance broken heart.
But Bette Midler sing's, knock's out all the,
shadow's of the earth distance.
One shadow across my opened heart window,
snow blizzard  blew apart ice my shadow fight
I paid the price started sticking
hearing music satanically

Andy Anderson window call's me?
Flicker's at me, it touched a part of me,
how it trembled me,
the familiar beat
I stumbled got down to my feet
looking out my window
Immortal sunlight powerful never
left my sight

what if we were castle turrets?
our tasseled but torn flags whipping the clouds,
dragons tearing off the shingles
with their nostalgic disorders.
we could be sagittarius.
emerging from the groves with purple,
bruised collarbones
only because they stretched miles within
our bodies like archers' bows, bitten
& shooting unintended victims.
which i guess is what i was always scared of,
mulling your jeans around in my room
and eating frozen strawberries alone,
staining my fingers with more than just
your sharpie-written love letters.
milky-white plant smoke can permeate hands
just like your smell can permeate my canyons,
sending tremors inside of their fibers
giving us scars that we don't like to burden,
sending rocks into our jagged feelings.
what if we were golden like our naked skin
under the olive branches that inevitably
mean hate, anger, shame, and the bee sting
of slaps from loved ones?
diamonds can pour through our smiles,
fill our upturned palms
and give the rubies of our tattoos to a shrouded god.
i've been listening to song lyrics & hurricanes,
& i understand now.
i understand what it would feel like
to belong to someone.

Mentally dismantled
Spiritually a bundled
Cranium tasseled
Failed attainment
Craze by the crowds
Oh how I feel demised
Trained by the master
Hidden intellect
Chosen few has heard
Chosen few has experienced
Life changing words
Brain is so superb
Tongue twisters is a love spot for the genuis that is her
She is her
Her is me
Her is you
Her is us
Her is many
Many of the intellects
Many of the power holders
Many of the strong
Many of her

blue checkered jacket
the cloth faded.
kneeling onto yesterday
holding on to tomorrow
her leathery tan hands cup
a wrinkled  tired face.
the white tasseled hair and the bulbous nose.
hope has left her eyes,
the light has turn to rain.
beneath a torn brown skirt
short varicose  bowed legs
forever journey to no place.
everything she owns in a big paper bag.

She has no home.

Everyone knows its a bad part of town,
no one lives there by choice.
Its this place called The Heat
down at the corner of holy gate
and 1-deuce-deuce.
There a girl there,
her real names Lucinda,
they say friends call her luci,
which is short for Lucifer,
and she works in The Heat
which is slick for hell.
They say she's called bass
"cause it look'a like a wide mouth bass
smell 'bout da same"
Nicknames and false alibis.
Luci works the Heat on taco Tuesdays.
They say she'll serve it hot for ten a song.
Fish taco Tuesdays.
They joke that it always smells like tuna anyways
even without fish taco Tuesdays.
They say on a good Friday,
The Heat almost becomes bearable
and every body watches old bass
swinging widemouthed and tasseled
around every pole in the bar.
But I can't bare it,
the kind of sadness in places like this
where they serve up breakfast
and Tuesday specials
for ten dollars a song.

With tangled toes and tasseled twirls  
You spoke to me in silence
Alone
you are invincible
Together
we are unstoppable
and I realize
how much I need you.

A man lost his leg in a dark spell
and a dinner plate sits in a dry spot
30 years of love soaked lung choked,
"I can't live without my eyes" life!
It's a tied or be tied world
a king prays in the morning
and stars connect his wishes
tasseled, sparkle, with
blood of shaking soft hands

A man lost his leg in a dark spell
a caravan station unfolds its carpet
a pegged ***** grinds for metal
and a sandpaper shoe floats in the creek
a bluejay whispers to the soil
and a soul catches an eye
hunger taken and a spirit flies
to morphing masses and flowing skies
flowing skies

A man lost his leg in a dark spell
as a green legged woman fell into the moon
a clasp of a watch was finally won
with fevered letters and hammered guns
filtered suns
filtered suns

Cow
You got a good cow?
Yeah, this one's got enough shy
Won't overextend her *** onto your tongue.
Yeah?
But she's ready to express.

Donkey
They killed the donkey
who did the donkey work
now the flood cannot be stemmed
too bad the horse is so ill equipped
the donkey work to collapse to plan B:
complacency is asking for it.

Wife
The farmer's wife keeps the trough filled
Her family all feed there, friend too
Hungry *******
She somehow feeds another
via the backdoor.

Red
The rooms all have this red glow
The men degrade themselves
A candle drips hot wax, moaning
Black leather and tasseled whips
Keeping the tapeworm alive.

Backstage
The visionary talks of truth, talks his head off
of hidden things and backstage agenda
There's now a fourth world status
in the back alleys of overcrowded slums
all overdosed on honeyed impressions.

Detour
High castles for preachers and glass houses for the rest
Some contend with deliberate detours to escape
dark dreamers in once rustic countryside towns.

Abstract**
Behold the executioner, removes the mask
The plot unravels, poor boy blade in gums
Coerced to perform things, ends in *****
Head in the desert; one jolt and jump away.

All he Oh! Ee-ee easy-does-it
Swift mastery_Crazy-has - its
shape me-energy love form
True witness philosophy
Silently neck to neck sadness
her pearls split pulled
her down into poverty

The emergency, madness
the young ones or wild ones
fertility all pearls majesty
of greatness
innocently, existentially
Her down-side persistently
lift divinely hands Manly-lovely

        (Pearl jewelry box)
His swift moves love ecstasy
My swift lift any of so many
True Fox another Lift- to see
Eyes to his left territory his turf

He is the lefty so pearly for her
So cultured girly pearly
Those were the days dosing off
My friends all daisy
*    _    _    _ *  _    _    _    

What a phaseout/ lazy fuse
But perk me up pink pearls
of white
His swift moves took a day off
Trying so hard to be polite
Hands work into tandem
Her rhythm Pearly  kingdom
She chopped him
like chop suey
Her skin on the bread rise
All floured white specks

Pearly spa cream perfect
Facelift Eeey foggy day in
London pearly glow
rainy town

Everything turned like a
A cafe without the group
Well cultured Dowop
The pearl paint swirl crop
The heroes and beloved
In the Holy Land

Come to me casual softly
spoken lend me your hand
pearly gloves
The pearl potential
the feeling mutual
Fitting and tasseled roped
into the musical
Swift flowing hair's no rings
 attached
to the back of our chairs

The darkness of the lover  
The black/gray pearls two pairs
Spiritual mundane existence
Karmic cycle her game portal
Spiritual plan of ritual

Eating pearl white chocolate morsels

The Steam, dream, in between,
Fundamental not comical
Something in the way she knows
Not really superhuman star how
it faded or belated feel be traded
She submerged beyond mortal

In her Galley cooking up
French cream sauce how
it sparkled Eeey milky
Ms. Mallery was pearlized
so traumatized so sulky
by his presence

Hides her pearl key-note
In her swift lift
(Artsy Gallery)
His face blended into the
pearl all framed

All the pearly Wedgewood
plates looking glass
world gates
Pearly cream color stage duet
To the sun pearly necklace
Cost her a delicate cream neck
Her Spa Tra  he hands her la la
Eeey milky honey smile
Hot MaMa
pearly text me trail

Her emails mount Fuji
Her striking pearls got to his heart
The film hum yum bite
The pearl jam flew
The big show nibble
Her bible she felt gullible
The words deepened ******
But the soft low key
Key lime mixed with coconut
           *Pearl Hey?
So swiftly swirled vanilla sky
sold her photograph
and chinchilla

The Seashell cottage her
footprints 'Pearl Rock" band

She was devoted to him truly
Pearl pledge was our duty
Swiftly mixed the marbelized
white/cream floor loved
and cared for protected
The Dr. pearl met Melody
Money like commodity
The patients pearled better care

With her  Moms, pearls mixing twirls
On his trimming suits cuffs of pearls
She was the pies smile every day
Swift honey eyes Winnie the Pooh

But more adult Eeeey truly I love you
Her silken strand's tightrope loop
Her power pearl British Colony
of Hong Kong exile

Morning draped dawn
The Chelsea ride of dusk
  Her favorite hint of
(Pearl Rose)
The musk elephant pearls
on his tusk
High up her pearly stocking,
Like her pride, was rocking
he took out the joy of her gift

The writing clause feathered
pearl drops the pen took her
dream away like a truce
The Gods know they love
The Gleam through her
windows
Left a strand of her starry
eyes of pearls were shut closed

Paraphrasing:

Oxygen feedback don’t
provoke me;
I relieve
all the need
plasticized lips to a
nail gun at
your forebrain
steal yourself a jacket;
don’t **** around
my home
when the freeze
follows every
sinkhole step
your fat toes

fall away

Let me de-muck
that nonsense:

Met a gal,
I did
name was Hannah,
spat mucosal ****
between my duck feet
And my tasseled spine
H   e av  e  d, hu rrr led at
T   he s i   g  ht o     f
M  y   s ki n

But I cracked and ground
my molars and I
gobbled that aching
dejection & snickering
and commanded she

****!

vanish
so it was

OK

for **** near three seconds
three
two
one

till she re-arrived
and rebuked a gull’s shade
for looking too much like
me and I
loved
her

now and
again and
three second
place trophies ago
she brushed me first

with that formidable
brilliance
a third of what
that beauty,

****!

that body
was gifted with
poison
that leeched
through palms
to my nerves

them bones

and out again

As I shut my eyes and close the doors of this world,
I lay in my bed and like a caterpillar I curled,
Nestled between the soft clean white sheets,
Last thing I know I have feel asleep as I hear the rush of cars on the busy streets,
I suddenly escape and enter into a world never seen before,
A world of beauty delight, and the purist of scenery,
The skyline as it sets from a teal blue to a golden yellow,
The roaring vibrant orange fading into a pink,
I am sitting on logs, laying my head upon wood chips,
One hand behind my head as I fill my lungs with the fresh air,
The air I can breath in without the fear of pollutants,
Before my very eyes I see a rocket of shooting stars,
My eyes glitter seeing them as they pass,
I shout to my mates as they run to lay and watch with me as mesmerized as I,
Violently shook, was the instant ticket from that world,
Seeing the tasseled white sheets, my vision blurred,
And like that suddenly within an eyes blink,
Not for a moment was I to think,
I was back to the same crummy thing I call life.
This world right here is a strife.

It was like we were two old friends
Sharing insights on a shiny green lawn.
We would come here again, I knew
In our own red garments and tasseled hats.
All I know is that
As you smiled so genuinely I found
There was no one I would rather see the end of adolescence with.
We are kindred spirits, you and I.

have avoided all attempts
neatly gift-wrapped box
no innocent bystander
my own shapeless crinkling

paper bags or newspapers
crunched around clumsy mechanics
a garage built go-cart racer
tie with shoelaces

rubber bands and bread twisties
bike wheels in back
forward red wagon wheel
reconverted down side shafts

coiling and wrenching
back to cab meeting
half a broomstick handle bar
tasseled dangly pom-poms

painted on sheet metal hood
1014 signifying day we met
skidding each other's hearts
last year’s soap-box derby

not a pretty package
but when you open up and see
marvelous flaming paints
spinning our memories

I hope you know
you are my burning desire
Shall we blast it one last time?
I’ll make those vroom-vroom sounds

The blue and white woven thread
Sits comfortably close
tasseled ends exotic
clinging seductively
Falling too easily.
Who needs pants?

cool crisp air
shows only hilltops
clouds roll low
through the valley
fanned by flocks
of silhouette birds
fields slowly emerge
tasseled stalks, orange gourds
ready for the harvest
other colors then the greens
break out in different spots
summers end brings thoughts
of cold which comes too soon
but yet some beauty still awaits
before the still cold white
all the rainbow but the blues
comes crashing to the ground
the smell of russet leaves
an air of reminiscence
the sound a shuffle makes
through knee high brown
all hands at work to rake
and jump and fill past full
find the perfect pumpkin
in a field full of them
yet one stands out
ready for the slaughter
with a jagged smile

Here I sit
In range of admiration
Your skin immaculately velvet
Your hair messily tasseled
Your gravity seizes my attention
My distraction

I want to be close to you
The warmth your body exudes
The rhythmic rise and fall of your chest
Your beating heart near to mine
My north star

But here I am
There you are
The distance so mere
Yet it feels like a universe
My loneliness

I.
I see the basin
The river
The dirt and filth on All

Some look like raisin
they shiver
As their world would shrink so small

I see the Lamb
The Angel
The Hexagram or crossed poles

II.
My mother told me to wear red on that day
Though she wore yellow
My mother told me not to yell on that day
Oh, how she curtailed a fellow

My father wasn't to be seen that day
At that time he was  scarce as a swallow
I think my father wore green that day
and so unlike my mother he could never wallow

III.

"Ark.."
Shiver
Sacred Candles
The voice coaxed up from the mountains
"Love...Thorn...Cup"
Purple Tasseled Majesty
IHS They say. Were the others?

you
   make me crazy.
your
   tasseled hair,
your
   careless smile.
everything.

sometimes, it's in addiction.
and sometimes, i want it all to stop.

i am overcome with joy i get to see you again
your tasseled hair
a little happy sky in the gleam of your eye
a picturesque not bounded by frame

my love.

what is it that i seek
from our correspondence

Ever know someone who took a gentle detour of the road to maybe pick wildflowers
or  chase a pretty butterfly or some such and returned sometime later.
But never came back
Carried of by aliens maybe.

I do.
This is a recurring theme for me
To watch a mind in complete free-fall with no clue at all.
Never ceases to amaze. If I could generate wealth by shaking my head in from side to side
I would be having lunch in Dubai. and dinner In Paris on a lark.Pull over and park
just for a minute will you. I need to vent.

Pull back the gold tasseled flap on my tent.
Eat drink to your hearts content. Have a glimpse of a purpose driven
helium filled balloon . stunning in its lightness of self and circumstance.
The man walking his dog sans pants.

The ******; sheepishly not innocent,
bound for another attack yet restrained by their inner hawk.
Guilted by feelings that drown in the sea of the land,
visibly tortured by the wakes of man.
Tasseled, bodied, manipulated to their very core;
the ease of handing gifts when given, and receiving gifts when taken.
They prey upon the demise of those upcoming, new, untold
Assuring their stories to never be told.
One hand and it's all whipped away,
Either by cuffs or a scarecrow at bay.