Flap, flap two black wings staggered
On two yellow clawed feet after stormy
Weather and the tufts of cats fur left
Like a white collar on emerald green.

Inside the cardboard box with soft lining
And scraps of bread, cheese and water
On a little polythene transparent oblong
There was chirping to be heard from within.

On varnish floor he skids and skates about
Putting newspaper down his legs got strong
After a few days of feeding he began to fly
Just a little spinning around the front room.

Bright eyed with yellow beak eating worms
He was nearly ready to be allowed outside
To find his strength and freedom with others
Tearily he was carried to park and released.

A few days later , looking in our garden tree
We saw him sitting on a leafy branch chirping
And singing a thank you song of gratitude for
A life he may never have lived without our help.

Love Mary ***

The coca-cola breath!
Flashing lights, tweetie birds, the rough narcotic stench

The sky is devoid, it is scared of the streets etched in starlight, everything shining-- tangerine and Coit and ohhhh boy
don't'cha know what you're in for?

Twilight and she is a figment on my mind
the bark of cigar is fiery opal on my slender frame
I can hear something along the lanes of love
Echoing behind me, the rising sun

Funny dudes in new suits, pressed, steamed, machine-rolled
pills in the pockets
shipped locomotive
Every etching has its china
every etching is porcelain skin
The fog is a silken balloon, unconcerned, wayward
The men longingly abide in its cool, the breath of an over-excited lover, singing in the showerhead an embarrassing microphone
over the west coast

It's all over! it's the end
the roads are devoid of the things that called you
They are a clarion horn on the Claremont, facades etched with windowpanes
here the americans eat tofu and pretend it's bacon

I am in the rapidly rotating spoke, enjoying the taste of woodchuck, upchucking my guts every Sunday, white knuckle-- praying to god
release
release

what a steal that's a fantastic car for the price!
it is only 10 years of payment
only 10!
House worth 40, kids worth 60, medicinal payments
corn flakes
Fortified iron gates and god says,
naw let them all out until they drown,
I'll never flood the earth but I'll make it puddles
and if they want they can lay face down

I am eating Korean stew and wondering what will happen
when unification builds a railroad from Moscow to Busan
I will travel it and write a novel or two
it will be
"On the Railroad"
and start in San Francisco or a little while outside
on an October evening with not a fog in the sky
Just sky, blue, blue sky
A child on the hillside
blowing bubbles in the apartment complex or the gravel mound
next to new homes, now cookiebread gingerbed frames
Doing tricks on BMX bikes, getting our elbows smashed, a designated paramedic
It's all built up now, concrete streets and lonely streetcorner lamps saying
Hey we're gonna light up this little space
Hope you don't mind
Please don't play too loud

And given that these spheroids are monumentally moving
hurling like a pitched water glass
everything staying put under the motion of it
Such a lovely rooting of mass

I will call alongside it, crawling towards answers etching on murals and on the stamping of curbs
E-5 West main
4451 Lowell Street
554 Happy Valley Road
It's all the fun little tributaries of surface waters
heading with precognition towards seas
roped into it by specific gravity

On the phone i spoke to Mr. Victorious
I asked him about his particular drone
down south there in the more direct limelight of the night
he told me about his uncle, in prose
of course
we just hung our heads over the speakerphone
Not sleeping the way we should
shouldering burdens as ***** in deserted zones
laughing and preaching to cottonfields

Then there was the girl
the one we forgot, truth be told
The one unrequited impetus for all art, all physicality and feeling
loved by god in the corporeal
She is the saffron reed in my eye, the one i forgot to preach Victory to
She that one oblong pebble, rolled by the stream
passing our campgrounds and continuing her journey to sands
small little microscopic tetrahedral perfection
I could get stuck in between my teeth
or perhaps left on the sweat of the skin
the lost moments of beachside living, love for the expansiveness, left in the diner seat of the car, gotta keep moving
Carrying her away and if not careful,
nestling her back atop the summits from whence she came.

it is a cola in the glass on the shores of the bay,
it is a divine moment of contact in the oceans
two sailors acknowledging their vessels
with light shows and the play of eye
off the horizon, a green light o' sprite.

After My Little Black Dog Died of Melanoma.
After the Lumps on Her Small Brittle Body Slowly
Burned to a Pile of Ash in the Vet’s Office.  After My Step-Father
Drove in His Ostentatious Truck to Pick Up Her Remains.  After I Cried
in My Dorm Room and Tried Not to Wake My Roommate.  
Realization that My Loss Does Not Make Me Different.  There Are
Graveyards That Span For Miles and They Are Filled With More
Dead Bodies Than I Have Ever Seen.  There Are Hundreds of
Thousands of Children in the Foster Care System That Have
Never Met Their Parents or Maybe They Did and it Just Didn’t Work Out.
Kids Who Might Have Lived With Their Terminally Ill Parent(s) For Years
Not Just Days.  Kids Who Never Sat in the Opened Up Trunk of Their
Mother’s Black Nissan Pathfinder at the Drive-In Movies.  Kids Who Lived Too Far From Their Too Old Grandparents or Who Lived Too Far From Their Too Dead Grandparents.  Kids Who Were Never Told Not to Throw Snowballs Because There Might be Big Chunks of Ice in Them.  Kids Who
Never Had a Childhood Dog to Cry Over.  Kids Who
Don’t Like to Read Because They Were Never Read
Bedtime Stories When They Were Younger.  Kids Whose
Mothers Never Called Them Tweetie or Pumpkin or Honey or ***.  
Kids That Were Not Told to Just Go to the Bathroom When
Their Tummies Hurt Instead of the Health Room.  Kids Who Never
Listened to the Spice Girls’ Album Spice World on Cassette on the
Way to the Store.  Kids Who Never Got a Peach Drink Out of a Vending Machine at the Pick’N’Save on 27th  Street and Still Don’t Know
Exactly What 50¢ Peach Drink Their Mother Bought For Them.  
There Are Thousands of Dogs Euthanized Each Day Because of
How Sick They Are or Because They Were at a Shelter For Far Too Long
or Because They Are a Pitbull or a Rottweiler or Some Other
Irrationally Feared and Disliked Dog Breed.  We Didn’t Euthanize My
Stage-Four-Cancer-Stricken Dog or Even Get Her Treatment Beyond
Pain Medicine Because We Were Selfish.  We Do a Lot of Things Because
We Are Selfish.  We Waited Five Days to Pull the Plug on My Vegetable
Mother Because We Were Waiting For a Miracle That We Knew Would
Never Happen Because She Stopped Breathing the Moment the
Aneurysm Burst.  My Sister is Getting Married in June and My
Grandfather is Going to Walk Her Down the Aisle in My Mother’s
Place.  My Grandparents Had to Move In With My Sister After My
Grandmother Fell Down Too Many Times and Didn’t Take Her Health
Problems Serious Enough.  There Are Repercussions For Thinking
You Are Safe When You Are Really Not.

A changing pillow, so soft with its yellowness.
A freshly laid outfit so fresh with the sweet smell of babies.
A cowboy swinging with the joy of Christmas morning.
The aroma of baby powder dancing in the air.
The sound of a fist banging the wall.
A cabinet filled with a collection of toys.
A white Pooh Bear smiling at the chair with cowboys on the side.
A rainforest setting singing italicrock a bye babyitalic.
Tweetie, Sylvester, Bugs Bunny, and Daffy Duck swinging on a merry go round.
The sound of a baby happily talking to angels.
A happy baby laughing as he watches angels dance before him.
I close my eyes and count to three.
I open my eyes.
Never will it be.

Commandos of respect holed up in the lights
of the medical machine
you are the only thing going on in my head
when I am not trying to think

found leaden footage of stock still bunting
from out the abattoir's grand  open day
on the HB pencil museum's HD security cam

voice can't open wide enough
to say your dead summer name aloud
since evil pixie told me to preserve it in its own silence

saw dead things twine in with tweetie pie's twirling bow tie
polo neck wool brings sling blades to a stop
pull throttle into tug of war  till I blacks out again

fourteen lunar wards later
still can't untangle the sad laughter
of  the neat tarantula  that came out in sympathy
shed her wee skin twice so she did
to make me a nice pair of fingerless gloves

two cold green sparks stood and stared  
at the throw away keep sakes
not dying just going under to cool off for a bit

third hinge blew off  and the song circle bled
and I placed its wound in totemic jello till it went the way of all flesh feathers

my share of the pain didn't give yours a moan in edgeways, it clum back down the thorns of  white gore rose
it was near to the end bit of life
where the gentle killers hung around

Uh-Oh my rhyming machine's got stuck again
see you in a moe toe flow blow sow foe bow crow snow low grow doe .............
.................there's no
such thing as zero
said bronzed gecko with crab arms for munch lips
like his song said
-never let now and then get too close together
-never put rainbow colours near any metal when in in a liquid form
-never hug when giving the kiss of life
-never put infrared furniture in dark living room
-never preserve a sadness in an artificial laughter
then when the music was over itself again
my foetus shaped ears clung to my head
like phantom limb headphones
we turned ourselves  back on
and up
and out
of the natural low
till we were beside our old selves again

Horror shop
Porcelain and dust ...


It's sits there
Staring at me
Porcelain
It's ****** up freaky
I watch it's eyes bleed
Did my eyes deceive me
The clown frowns
Menacingly

It sits there
Four legs and a tail
Porcelain feline
Gives me the creeps
I swear the ****** just purred
Licked it's whiskers as it sleeps

Moose heads stuck up on a wall
Stuffed with stuffing
Manicured horns
I am sure this creature died in vain
And it's crazy eyes
Disguise it's missing brain
It looks at me
Am I going insane ?

Dust and objects fill the space
I don't see an exit
Free from this place
And a little old lady looks at me with a grin
She's about to say something
But keeps it in
Offers me a cup of tea
I accept with discomfort
It sits in a carousel
A porcelain horse
Playing a concert

The antique cup full of
Water and ....
roaches
Dread filled heat
Traps me as
A new figure approaches

I don't remember walking in
Surrounded by dust and porcelain
I search for the exits once again

**** me

There a cage in-between
It's a dead stuffed Tweetie bird singing
It's wings are together with
Bad sewing

I take a seat on a leather couch
The dust springs in the air
With the smell of
musk and mouse
This is a horror shop
Not a house
Not a museum
I can not describe enough
The details in what I am seeing

A solid old piano
With keys of ivory
Start to play
Hauntingly
They call me
There's no one behind the music
I slowly creep towards it
And a decapitated
foot taps
The foot pump
Toes are mangled and daunting
The tunes amazing

I stand frozen
The old lady encroaching

Puts her hand on my shoulder
And whispers the words
She has been holding

A handkerchief stained with blood
She is folding
Over and over
In tiny little squares
Until finally she
Has the perfect edges

Opens her mouth and I hear

Dear sweet child
Look around
Look at the creatures
The porcelains
The distorted mannequins
The dust you've been storing

Now move aside the cobwebs
See the window over there
Open it child
Breath some fresh air

Then look back at the horror shop
And think real hard .....
For it's important
You must
Or you'll sit on a shelf
And you to will collect dust x

It’s fun watching my youngest bird molt
Charlie her cockatoo does it too
It’s so cute!