The moon sways
down the sun’s half eye
for it every mo
is the elephant is in the room
before the sun zooms out  
deep down from the pi.

Magic is uncracked within
that first light breaks out
dawns in the eternal night
is a shiny tear in the speechless
witness’ open eye,
on the tight lips, deep runner silent pi!

Men on the painstakingly polished circle
may have hewn out riveted eyes.
Up more is set free deep down the pi,
bottom in anew, in open paradise!

Talent.
So so Far I've seen the talent-less and the talented
**** heads until their skulls cracked and we peered in
and saw a garden growing green leafy creativity
Gallantly trotting across the right brain like the  breezy morning wind
And as we looked away and declared the winner had won
but cracked his skull on the stubborn brick wall
the talent-less had spun
out of hard jealousy and mortar crafted from their own lack of self discipline
The sun even sighed
died for a second
then came back alive only to find the talentless
still forrunning their forte
up every frigid full soul he found on his way
So the days saddened into rainy Saturdays
19 in a row
with the downpour too vicious to even kiss on the cheek as a pity way of putting across that
"you should really go"
the rain rained down boulder sized bouts of concentrated creative energies
only able to be ****** up by sponges with cracked skulls
and thus made into uncracked skulls
mended skulls
Talented unabridged uncensored skulls
that may drown out the talentless
just like the rain and storms tried to muster a try at
And by that we only see the talented come out walking with rain pouring Into their brains
getting ****** up by extracorpus veins
Not because they were born with contraptions
but because they avoided distractions
and gained traction in this multiverse where everything happens with struggle
and pain.

I think of you
A collapsing star
Your pain like the day the world began
So powerful
Your mind like
The day it will end
Scalding pure.

My heart is like a furnace tonight  
Blue white
And my bones are full of rainwater
Cold now
But heating up

Shame
For all my shrieking
I am whole
Like an egg
Uncracked
I do not think anything
Grows
In here
But the shell
Is smooth
And that seems to count for something.

Still
I am buried
And the soil above me
Churns—
The skitterings of beetles
Something with wings that whir.  
I grip the door frame
That dark mouth
And wonder if I am coming to life
Or leaving it

I am iron
A tea kettle starting to boil
It sings and screams
And hisses out a thread of steam.

The burns slide up my arms like little snakes.

And yet you are here
Still
Here like a sun
Calling the blood in my veins
And it answers
Pounding—

It would rather be with you than me.

You used to be the harbinger of disdain
I thank you deeply for unfurling my blemishes to all
Apprehension followed me around every bend
Doubting my own moral ambiguity
At war with all around
Now pushing to break me down
Persistence shall be my armor my confidant
Never become a token on that vile board
How cynical as the blemishes evaporate
I am no longer an ingrate

head shoved in the bath

open eyes to see the porcelain

in stunning watercolour

counting

one mississippi

two Mississippi

to see the moments passing

against supposedly blurred off-white tub bottom

uncracked egg-shell backdrop of clock faces

tick mississippi tock mississippi

blinking short and long seconds

from twelve to twelve

“A woman needs to find a way of creating boundaries that is not a violation of her instinctual feeling of wholeness.”*

daring like a ballerina
simple as a peach orchard
she loves me like a daughter
from the height of wonder
I look at her with innocence
like a mother
I teach her how to stare in the sun
to see flowers of light
the fragility of colours
and how stories happen in the dark
the hardest part is letting go of knowing
reinventing the smile
words stand there not pretending
tangible, waiting to be broken
here is everything letter by letter

cruel and demanding
like a song, like a perfume in autumn
“I lend you my fairies,
you lend me your arms”
silk embraces
uncracked choices
I follow her into laughter
She follows me into tenderness
little exchanges, attunement, failures
when to draw a line
when to plunge into circles
store fat miracles
a grasshopper is coming in
propelled by the infinite desire

“you don’t have wrinkles, mama”,
she laughs
a bird came to nest in your heart,
don’t frown, mama
let’s yell to scare baubau
"should I make it yellow?"

every day she’s mapping my honesty
giving me her burden of childhood
and we found ourselves raw and dreaming
in between hearts

It's comic and tragic,
The cycles,
The ups and downs.
Sometimes the devil wins,
Sometimes I do
(But usually it's him).
I'm tired of these
Unnecessary spells of
Unceasing torture, they
Leave my
Body racked, and
Levy a terrible toll
On my mind.
"Crack!", they say.

If these fingers touched ink,
let what flows be
untainted and true;
unsmeared and sure.

If these hands mould clay,
let what is made be sturdy.
Be uncracked,
unblemished
and smooth like porcelain.

If this body pivots upon legs,
let it stand upright and tall.
So no wind could fell it down.
But should it topple,
let no earth will it shatter.

If this mind invites another,
let no thought nor idea
adulterate its own...
For its ways may wind
and meander,
but it is obstinate.

If this heart still beats,
no matter how faint...
Let its rhythm be steady
and unrelenting.
So it might echo
through long days
and moonless nights
to find others like it.

Then,
I may not feel so alone.

I woke up an uncracked knuckle
Left the house late
Arrived early
My coffee shop closed
For good this time
The new tenants tried to sell me
On Reggae Dancercise
They explained they’d still have coffee,
A small conciliation.
I saw my sister, sat with her child
He ate cupcakes & distrusted me
For my gluten intolerance.
She is unimpressed with poetry
My sister, she falls for a Friday
I sit on a street in NoLita
It is wind-swept, as am I.
Wondering at this moment
When the next time I will
Touch hearts with another will be...
Not on this street
If today.

God I want a boring life. Nice Apartment in a big city. One cat. One dog. Big den, full bookshelves on every wall, comfy chair. A bottle of ***** a week, two bottles of tonic. A couple cigarettes, maybe a pipe, I tried one of those. The smell is better than the taste. Fireplace. Snow. My dream job that pays 80 thousand a year. enough to afford that faux quaint apartment and keep me in books. I'll get bored, I just know it. ****. I've got no clue what I want.

Help me
before I
fall apart

Help me
if I
fall apart
to pick
up the
pieces

Help me
before I
fall apart

Help me
if I
lose some
of me
to find
it again

Help me
before I
fall apart

Help me
stay whole
and uncracked

once a bell has pealed,
can it be unpealed?

once liberty is cracked,
can it be uncracked?

once one is loved,
can one be unloved?

once something breaks,
can it be unbroken?

once a light has been lit,
it can be unlit
then re-lit.

once a crack opens,
once a break occurs,
once love falls,
the Light gets in.


c. 2017 Roberta Compton Rainwater

You scrub away the blood,
And wipe away the dirt,
And put on a clean, free expression,
Pretend you're unhurt,

You convince yourself relentlessly,
That you're okay, you're fine,
That you don't swallow your sobs,
You've got a smooth, uncracked design.

You don't cry yourself to sleep each night,
You're as happy as can be,
You're not yearning and pleading,
I wish I was anyone but me...

In morning, he is divided and pried from the dream
Confronted by the next plaster gray View-Master day.
He lingers on his traditional half of the bed, teetering
Then ventures across the deafening, empty apartment
Where the dust accumulates like hourglass sand
Blanketing, bit by bit, over sedimentary plans
And archeological troves of screaming bones
In a vast, derelict desert of vestigial space
Towards a wardrobe of aborted echoes.
There he peruses his potential noms du jour
The coats of people he could have been
Knowing most of them no longer fit.
He settles on his most generic pronoun.

He performs his penance to the Tao:
He is each domino just as it tips
He is becalmed
He is amid still waters
He is a ship without wind
He is a captain without a ship
He is a bouy on the waves
He is one last minute
Treading water
(He is Legion, sleeping)
He is another last minute
He is the dragging current
He is the inflection of breath
He is the mooring of the moment
He is the stones in the coat pocket
He is the coveted numbness of now

In evening, he recoagulates and retires
Resigned to eat the tail that eats itself
Consummating one more centrifugal lap.
He remembers Sisyphus must be happy.
He watches through his dizzy window
A caterpillar spewing up a second womb.
It will be the last monarch butterfly
But he avoids the finality of the situation,
And in his mind, any ensuing hurricanes.
He buries himself in stale anticipation
Beneath slowly overflowing drawers
And trash bags piling up in hallways
Where he stores expiring fortune cookies
Whose pearly secrets he leaves uncracked
For want of a friendly sweet tooth
To bite the bullet for him
Because he can't today.

Thanks for putting me in this place,
I'm holding myself up between the walls
as the water rises
It's up to my waist
I'm up to here with your lack of effort
Yeah, I'm motioning to my head
Toss me a buoy, would you?
At least give me an explanation
I'm sick of being wrung-out,
searching for a reason
Just tell me why or what
or something about this,
you uncracked enigma

-cj

Distance is quite simple;
Either you're far or further
not near or closer.
For your love is not mine.

I prepared shells for you to crack;
To drill, to heed.
But the outermost is still the outermost--
For you do not love me.

Today as I walked passed you
still uncracked,
I felt the sand sliver in my insides.
The outermost is still the outermost--
For you will never love me.

Stare down the one-lane road,
Inside a thick forest,
The black pavement is uncracked,
Unless I step forward,
The surface becomes broken and foggy,
Occasionally, a car will pass somewhere across the mountainside.

The forest lining the road sings songs,
Songs that remind me of things that nobody knows about,
To thick for me to leave the road,
That's okay, I'm getting there.

☹ ☹ ☹ ☹ ☹ ☹ ☹ ☹ ☹ ☹ ☹ ☹ ☹
✔ There's a secret videotape of C.F.R.'s monkey Tom Clancy beggin'
✔ in vain to the Control Group that vaccinates a senile Nancy Reagan
✔ for his life to be spared as before God would whine an antsy pagan
✔Le Nègre Prix de Triomphe goes to Heidi Klum's seal-hung lancer
✔whose skin's a mucopussy mess from discoid lupus not lung cancer
✔as his soul was skinned nights dodging **** as a black-dung dancer
✔trapping weasels while boiling weevils ain't the Ivory Coast answer
☹Tex & Rita (to Memorex): Die you schizogenetic offering by dawn
☹in the dirt-bag opting of a love stymied beneath an undeterred lawn
☹in starving memory to Dutch: a ray-gun-loving Reagan called Ron,
☹that war-dodging acquaintance of stage-dead mummer **** Shawn
☹whose crap-out was viewed by attending audience as a planned con
☹but alas the gray ******* was, medico-legally, dead and gone
☹To negrita ****** & Albanian trulls & stenographers he's just John
✔The ease in which legs are compressed & unfolded at the cat house
✔ makes me hearken for unstuck Tuesdays at ye olde Erin cork house
✔ where fish are skinned like brave men tried in a federal court house
✔ while uncracked minds get cracked up at a ******-town crack house
✔ 'Cause of whitey I'm kidney-listed 7 million _sans_ country club clout
✔ I'm bony, **** & looking for a compatible liver-donor to break out
✔ of this low-immunity strata before there is a liver-disease outbreak
✔ as the runny dog-**** of ******* dogs ******* near me starts to cake
☹ so as to out-stink a South Korean who's really a North Korean fake
☹ The federal government is eugenical: to it we must own up sheeple,
☹ thus maturing emotively into a sovereign, logical, grown-up people
☹ for it stands that the melding of nanny state & citizenry is umbilical
☹ & in confliction with by-gone eras as our illogic's queerly quizzical
☹ because it pits humanoid knowledge against the quasi-metaphysical
☹ that foments hatefulness toward each appointed government radical
☹ who queerly degenerates into deviances paraphrenical and fanatical
☹ whereas whip-lash's suit-seeking, soft-tissue damage that's cervical
✔ requiring an obligatorily-worn orthopedic brace for 2 years farcical
✔ to render pro-rated, per capita lifetime-loss-of-earnings stats logical
✔ for in America breaking a sweat to earn bread has become heretical
✔ as ditzes respire hot air into bean-counting jobs designated clerical,
✔ Occidental monasticism's monasterial intrigue remains monastical
✔ overseas whereat cartographically-globular frontiers chart spherical
☹ Shrill moans of belabored Mexicalis triggers a Marxian mechanism
☹ that deflects absent divers toward proto-Brazilian-styled lesbianism
☹ which remains less evil than Theodore & Franklin D. Rooseveltism
✔ times 13 million ******* blackening white love for nig criminalism
☹ in camps of cramped campers craving crammed communitarianism
☹ Let us bathe in the spittle of homosexuals before we roll over to die
☹ as deviance's eternal, trumping the realm of  The Catcher in the Rye
☹ 'cause my ***** afro reflects nig force to punish whites before I die
☹ as a lard-***, ghetto-happy 'fro bro who digested the E.B.T. food lie
✔ while the Siamese outed glorious Teresa Teng as a Kuomintang spy
✔ No ****** wins awards for the glory of being an award-winning ***
✔ as no strip-mining strip miner burns U.M.W. cards for heaps o' ****
✔ while bagmen trade for what's behind door 2 for what's in their bag
✔ because kids trained in knife-attack'll stab in a childish game of tag
✔ to snub ****** daylight saving time with its pain-in-the-*** time-lag
✔ that denies maiden beauties their beauty sleep long before they hag
✔ & battery-operated boyfriends to prisoners gagged by jailhouse gag
✔ or mothers in the last raggedy stages of monthly ragging on the rag
☹ Back against the wall & indebted to the last lucky 7 vinegar strokes
☹ see no point to cajole unlaid, lay-about chicks for the routine coax
☹ No Christian shall deny an unborn baby's supreme court right to die
☹ 'cause the German zeppelin LZ 129 Hindenburg was too light to fly
✔ There's a secret videotape of C.F.R.'s monkey Tom Clancy beggin'
✔ in vain to the Control Group that vaccinates a senile Nancy Reagan
✔ for his life to be spared as before God would whine an antsy pagan
☹ “I'll tolerate no remark **** Lana Kramer!” Farted the proctologist,
☹ after Marlon Brando snuffed Odnarb Nolram, a Tahitian acarologist
*☹ who toyed in the nefarious world of gynecology like a gynecologist

Please, if you have the time
Listen to the moon, she's really trying tonight.
She'll fatten and she'll thin.
Her voice shall strain and tighten till tight.
Please, please, listen.

She that uncracked thunderbolt,
Who never dared dash across the shadow shades
But remained to halt
Above the sea and grassy meadows and glades.
Hold the applause.

She sits up at the piano,
Hear her go.
Oh moonlight
Sing. Sing for us tonight.
Hear her before the morning glow.

Your judgement rains down
like machinegun fire,
but I grew up in a viperpit
full of violence and ire.
You wonder why I'm distant
but I was raised under attack.
Struck down in the moments
before you swore you'd be back.

You want to share credit
for my accomplishments but
where even were you?
What claim has your absence
on these things that I do?
I made myself from your ashes
like some backwards phoenix
worried at all times of the you
inside my double helix.
I went booming across the midwest
chasing the Thunderbird
and nuclear aftershocks.
Hoping any moment to be stirred
to freedom by these mythical hawks.


I was awoken
consiserably broken
and while I've done work
glass just don't uncrack
and there's **** from which
we just can't come back.
I don't know what to say
don't know who to tell.
I'm sorry, Pavlov
but we can't unring that bell.

I love you.
I always will
I've tried not to
and here we are. Still.
You watched them turn
me into this horrible closed off
monster shaped man
and then demanded explanations
for why I am what I am.
I've not got it all fixed
but I'm trying.
I've got a past to escape
and the cracks aren't uncracked
but they are traced in painter's tape.
I'm gonna be better
I'm gonna likely die trying.
And the credit will be all mine
in spite of your lying.

I wanted more but here's
what I've got.
I want to be whole and normal
but ******* it, I'm not.
You weren't there to teach
or to provide or to even try.
I wasn't worth staying for
and I still don't know why.

☒ The truest of dead-tested-death-testing proves Robin's dead for sure
☒ By 26 August 2014: Robin F. Williams doesn't **** & doesn't snore
☒ Showing that his rotting *** is dead because it cannot **** anymore
☒ To distance Italians from Sicilian mobsters is a Neapolitan goal,
☒ so Italia: inter mummy Rosalia Lombardo to instate her timeless role
☒ as the raking gnaw of unholy museum worship exacts a Karmic toll
☒ La Repubblica italiana, bury Rosellina Lombardo to honor her soul
☒ Meanwhile a counterfeit woman lives as Michelle Obama the man
☒ Reeling in big fish, retiring with his husband and living on the land
☒ This Michelle Obama's of a neo-femininity heftily counter-manned
☒ Wail over the blubber of mercurial fish shrink-wrapped and canned
☒ Michelle's ribs are the Chesapeake Bridge over oily water spanned
☒ It's worse than what the immigration department doesn't require as
☒ the bureaucratic class charges a **** cop grid with a 240 live wire
☒ because accordingly Vatican City is the descendant Roman Empire
☒ where-from incorporated elites throw Christians on a funereal pyre
☒ 1 door-to-door monkey salesman Jim Jones of Jonestown, Guyana
☒ Died for the C.I.A. as M.I.5 murdered ex-princess ******* Diana
☒ Eerily hear '97's semi auditory disturbance: Tyson bites Holyfield
☒ No man in sox denies comforting knowledge of wearing 'em milled
☒ Patients scared sacred is the verdict on cells C.D.C.-certified killed
☒ set upon para-nucleic structures acidic pathologically-thunk sealed
☒ Mercifully a fattened Elvis crapped-out from a bloated heart stilled
☒ 2 farmers flea volcanic plains before furrowed meadows are tilled
☒ The Acámbaro Figures and Kensington Runestone aren't canonical
☒ As they're deliberately omitted from all Apocryphal books Biblical
☒ Skirts barely below mons veneris calculate lust & lure systematical
☒ Seems the totality of items round coax contraband flicks cylindrical
☒ Dirt & smudges & wrecks the sea causes, rounded to what's conical
☒ The beautiful Teresa Teng sang of “Another rainy day in Nagasaki”
☒  I have seen films of her on bikes, on skates but not playing hockey
☒ The ease in which legs are compressed & unfolded at the cat house
☒ makes me hearken for unstuck Tuesdays at ye olde Erin cork house
☒ where fish are skinned like brave men tried in a federal court house
☒ while uncracked minds get cracked up at a ****** town crack house
☒ Tex & Rita (to Memorex): Die you schizogenetic offering by dawn
☒ in the dirt-bag opting of a love stymied beneath an undeterred lawn
☒ in starving memory to Dutch: a ray-gun-loving Reagan called Ron,
☒ that war-dodging acquaintance of stage-dead mummer **** Shawn
☒ whose crap-out was viewed by attending audience as a planned con
☒ but alas the gray ******* was, medico-legally, dead and gone
☒ To negrita ****** & Albanian trulls & stenographers he's just John
☒ Lewis Mumford wasn't motherly as now Mum is his name or 'cause
☒ The Myth of the Machine Vol II: The Pentagon of Power was tame
☒ Mumford's keen intellect is marginalized and therein lies the shame
☒ Finding competent help for a homosexual brain defect ain't so easy
☒ with local brain doctors buggering sailors till they're both as queasy
☒ as allergists with red noses because allergy tests make them sneezy
☒ Many 62-year-olds get a kick out of bowel surgery when it's breezy
☒ beneath palms labeled alphabetically: tree w, tree x, tree y & tree z
☒ When you date first a date-****** you expect date-**** on first date
☒ To love profoundly we must possess an inalienable, intractable hate
☒ while a chaste Chaz hefts gobs of food from fridge to stove to plate
☒ faster than down hill on oily rails screams a train obese with freight
☒ that'll whip mufflers Oprah & Gayle at their queerest galloping gait
☒ Without toilet paper, ****** rags would be gay Clint Eastwood's fate
☒ as his ***-lovin'-Bohemian-Grove-attending *** needs an **** mate
☒ with a deep ****** receptive to bath-house Clint's masochistic trait
☒ enhanced by a brutal sadism borne of a splintered Korean War pate
☒ he got from a bumpy flight aboard an Army Air Force bomber crate
☒ dropping him into Richard E. Byrd's North Pole hollow-Earth state
☒ Viceroy Mountbatten was in tall grass fooling with his swollen ****
☒ when ****** India emerged from her foreign-imposed-grave-pit rut
☒ to absorb a parting partition shot with a death by the thousandth cut
☒ in '47 while King George VI could not keep his blabber-mouth shut