From Potent Treasures despite Five Months past
The Sixth Great Angel suddenly appeared
Reminding my Lost Voice which Virtues last
And preached the Sermon of True Self revealed
How Wonderful must your Header advise
Being the Younger of your Sister's sprite
From there Unknotted Loyalty devise
Though snubbed by Pink Dandelions in spite
Now I can see why he chose over you
His Charming Sense knew your Heart was that Pure
And please keep on; Keep that Silver Disc blue
Coat them with your Wings from being demure.
Yes I Agree. Of your True Coating's stand
Thank you so much for reminding me at hand.

One day people will touch and talk perhaps
easily,
And loving be natural as breathing and warm as
sunlight,
And people will untie themselves, as string is unknotted,
Unfold and yawn and stretch and spread their fingers,
Unfurl, uncurl like seaweed returned to the sea,
And work will be simple and swift
as a seagull flying,
And play will be casual and quiet
as a seagull settling,
And the clocks will stop, and no one will wonder
or care or notice,
And people will smile without reason,
Even in winter, even in the rain.

crammed in corrals
hissing whispers of escape
and hoping their
size and shade
captivates
the next sticky-fingered cart rider

mother's mind so mobbed
and arms so grocery-laden
that the ribbed
and loosely coiled ribbon
remains unknotted, unbowed
to slip
from pudgy-fingered grips

the orb bobs and sways–
laughing, helium-high
as it makes its getaway
unknowingly following Icarus
to a solar ******
that is, if beak or plane
doesn't reach it first

POP!
shattered and tattered, irreparable
it plummets back to earth

its noose
still dangling from its neck

Every breath pushed me further bobbing and blushing, rounder and tugging, seeking simply to soar. I could taste the breeze, the blue above - waiting, and as I stretched so did my smile.

But I was held unknotted only, oblivion teetering on the pinch of a thumb and forefinger. Until slowly but cynically, gasp by gasp, all was forced out, and when the moment came to go, there was nothing left to go on.

if they call them "heartstrings"
then

someone must have untied your end from mine
someone must have cut your end from mine
someone must have picked and picked until
the string frayed and split
someone must have unknotted every knot we tied to hold us together.

if they call them "heartstrings"
then

i need to be restrung
so my heart isn't hanging around
broken
for everyone to see.

My own mind.
Channeling sending my soul  away.
Expect  laughter and doubt fly.
Why not? Enjoy.
It's not that bad alone.
I don't have to pull my string.
Burning in my heart keeps me at bay.
Story teller within.
Distilled coloured skin.
capture

Emily will take her cedar box
of hidden poems
throwing them on a Sou’ Westerly breeze
in a New England Spring —

They will be snatched and fly
daring, dainty flutter byes
across the stretching continent
the Great Plains and New Frontiers —
The Sun — rising in ribbons
Mountains dripping scarlet sunsets
vast Miles of Evening Sparks —
as the Hemispheres come home
to early Night —

they’ll be read by lonely cowboys
drinking whisky, in the sagebrush
Indian braves campfire smoking
Sung in Saloons by husky-voiced dames
can-can dressed and a whole lotta grit
and gumption.

Emily, lightened of her load
unknotted the Skein of Misery —
Universe unstitched —
in this moment of escape
Landscape will listen —
Shadows will hold their breath
until the words are spoken.

Emily’s skipping down the stairs
of that morbid, cold wintered house
with its bare Slants of Light —
rushing out the door
throwing herself on the Open day —

Telling True, but slanted.

Tiny little parcel
All wrapped up and waiting to be
Undone.
Sitting quietly
Under the shade of
Resentful
Ambiguity.
Cautious scarred and wry
(smiling)
insecurity
See me sitting calmly
assembled
All parceled up and wanting
Waiting
To be unpicked

Carefully
Hand stitched
Calling softly (upon deaf ears)
To be untied
To see what lies
Beneath each fettered
Layer.
Role player
This small and softly spoken
Box
Of being
Seeing nothing
Feeling everything
With wary
(doleful)
Soulful eyes.
(closed)
Dreaming of being
(open)
I am token
Bundle
(******)
a pile of sticks
untamed.
Paused upon the ground
unsound
Aspiring to to be burned
In order to
(feel)
spurned.
This collated stack
Of feelings lost to the numb of
Being wrapped up and tied to the self.

A book full of stories
Unnamed.
Pages upon pages
Loose words
Collected
Piled and falling
Upon a dusty
Neglected shelf
Too much of the self
Not enough of the other.

Resting.
Worn out
Dog eared
Belayed by fear.

Waiting
Wasting
Hasting
to be undone.
To be unknotted
Frayed
Displayed
Vast volume
Unspoken betray.

Hold fast
This minute
Package
Lying restless
At your feet.

I’ll sing you a lullaby,
From all my toys,
They’d come to life
And me make noise,
They’d make me sing at night,
Sing songs well spoken,
But now it’s turned to fright,
As they’ve been broken.

The color from the paint is gone,
The windows are now smashed,
What was blue and white
Has now turned grey,
And faultless plastic has held its might,
As I still sit here and play.

A skipping string with rope unknotted,
A trampoline with springs unthread,
A skateboard that misses it’s wheels,
All sit alone in this old shed.

The doll house empty,
and rooms abandoned,
The dolls are naked,
that clothes can’t find,
A broken swing,
that has been stranded,
A teddy bear that’s lost its mind.

A plastic keyboard, that makes no sound,
A cooker oven with stickers ripped,
A crying dog that has been mound,
A broken stool that can’t be fixed.

Although they're damaged and battered through,
They sing me lullabies, I sing to you.

They ******* alive,
So I make noise,
So I can sleep at night,
With these few toys.

chase the dream? or does the dream chase you
will i ever clean up this spilled ink,
or this messy ******* room?
all these unknotted strands of excess
stressed by lessons in having less
and not caring when it’s left
i don't care what is left

let me undress and leave my jacket
for someone else who needs to have it
i have enough to take this test
everyone survives their own sadness
in order to progress
i can share

and it smells like you’ve
been ******* someone else
but today, i don’t really care
or think that it’s my fault
and i think you can tell
the world is too big and too small
for those thoughts to manifest themselves
to fall into the small of my back
no more carrying rocks around in my backpack
the wealth of having nothing is the unrobbable stolen eyes
the stealth of the wise, being whole with parts,
it's the holy art of being too tired for lying to self
i guess jadedness is a start
but i'm looking for something else

options options options keep making me stumble on
and today the wind said no one ever listens him out
when he speaks for too long
and today the earth said no one cares
about her body heaving through each breath of this song
and yesterday i understood them but now
something is off kilter, something is wrong

i can feel when they cease to breathe
just like us when we sit in public places
hostile when someone gets in our space and
braced for impact, so enraged by this stranger
pull away, pull yourself up
she's about to go, so much love
how could we lose it all
in the flood of manmade lakes
the depths all caked in mud
like the inside of our stomachs
did you not notice what was at stake?

but now she is demanding a toll
for our rubble, so let's clean up the blood
the sky is chaotic and exotic
let everything love everything for once
this spoiled patch of stumps
is all we have left
so let's sit in the warm sun
pull our ringed fingertips up
to touch the clouds as they run
away from us again

the wasps caught in the cusp of our lungs
squirming towards our fleshy throats
that book i never wrote
it was a ******* masterpiece
the scars i stole
hurt like a headache in my hands
and where again do i find the right spot to sit
where is safest to land
and when do i know it’s the time to leave
i will wait, i will create, abate hate with silence
until she comes to, and cries, don't you see
it's time, and have you done everything you could
and then whispers
and if you didn't, would you

would you return and rewind to where it begun
grow up learn a trade, and marry a man, and have a son
or run to the apple orchard, and dance with someone
and touch the bottom of the pond
when it is at it's stillest and then wonder
will it ever be possible without ripples
and how many of these lakes are human limits
with potential unsung
barely digging into the bedrock soil

have you learned to love everything yet
and accept what you do not know
instead of seeing each error as a small death
each progression as an excuse to grow
and grow and grow

life isn't a saying
there is no chasing involved
there is only you and gravity and resolve

It was
A beautiful unfolding,
The way his
Words
Unwove
All the intricate knots
That held together
The pieces of
My tender heart.

I am no judge of good character
(think I am the greatest poet-***-bf ever)

I used to be a sharp dresser,
(then to the time twisted testing,
t'is of tiny import sense succumbed)

I used to love woman by the score
(Ha! fooled ya, still do, will dying do so,
but caught in a single spider's heartweb,
I read, and I love, and cheat only nowadays
with weak eyes and strong words)

I used to be young in heart,
(self impressed at my talented prose,
but then my eyes grew keener,
the more I read, the older I got,
the more others led me faster,
sweeter to the promised land)

so I trip 'n skip in the waterfall pool,
that forms where the poems cascading
are laid down to peaceful repose to keep,
and too oft, sad uneyed loneliness

yet, I see a graffiti on the clear bottom,
white paint upon an earthen rock,
wipe away the eddys, put aside the ego,
lift it, lift me up, that stone,
with caressing care to read:

So Jo Was Here

oh indeed indeed in deed another poet,
who blues my heart with words modest,
in combinations that say to me
you knew that, but not till now!

how did she know that

words and words and -
ironies usurp courage
adventure scowls unsated
Times New Roman ****
pixels unconsummated
similes sin-taxed for hits
stale nefarious negging
all heros on the page
reality waits begging

I read and I think
did I not write these words?

love is a bittersweet borrowed lie
time is a slowly emptied sigh
deception is the sharpest yet rustiest lance
and rage the slowest, saddest dance
while truth's just polished-up confusion
with words - the slipperiest illusion

But I did not!
nope but I read them cause

So Jo Was Here

stoked and croaking,
addicted, I read on
only to find my mirror image
once again, one mo' time crime

But I was held unknotted only,
oblivion teetering on the pinch
of a thumb and forefinger.

Until slowly but cynically,
gasp by gasp,
all was forced out, and when
the moment came to go,
there was nothing left to go on

so it is written, so it will be read

then you can say too,
as I did, as I here confess,
in my recesses unexplored,
trembled to find,
overjoyed to be
me revealed
cause:

*So Jo Was Here

.
In a flower bed
Of rose and thorn,
Scarlet and green,
As we stem into one
Growth under blankets
White with joy, blue
As blood, we pluck
The petals left for us,
We tangle in thickets,
Moisted lips of heaven
Of clover and of daisy,
Milky as the wet stars,
Honeyed in the night
Hive and sumptuous
Joining, like clouds,
Opening above, we
Drench ourselves, cry
In drops, teary rains
That break, inwards,
Eyes, entwining with
Hot limbs unknotted
Till there is the spent
Wonder of skin scent,
Steeps of salt and sea,
Each leftover of touch
An outcast, a grieving.
.

Your touch on me,
firm, protective,
searching
me out.

Trying to touch my
every detail that has
been covered with
the forest's leaves.

Your fingertips so
tender and soft
against my skin.

Your hands so
delicate as they
unknotted the
weeds and seeds
tangled up in
my hair.

Our thoughts drenched
us in love in that moment.
Our thoughts of passion
and lust began to turn
us on.

Making our hearts
pound so strong making
us both nervous and
hard.

Your heat warmed my
body that has been
cold for a long time.

Your hands covered
my chest and rose from
being exposed to the
wind and these woods.

Is it destiny that sent
you here ? Is it fate that
let us kiss and touch ?
Is love that allowed our
hearts to sing along the
same song ?

The leaves and vines
giggled when your lips
brushed against my
blushing cheeks.

The sky sighed and
weeped tears of joy on
us damping the soil
beneath our bare
feet.

Our kisses and hugs
made nature gaze in
awe. It made nature
shout out for an
encore.

While the birds above
placed a crown of the
brightest leaves upon
my head.

You kneeled down on
both your knees , kissed
my hand and proposed
to me in front of the
trees and the fallen
leaves* ~

i'd lap up an apology like it was saccharine nectar.
i beg for my self-worth to be untied, unscrambled,
unknotted from perceptions of
strangers and eyes, that linger
and push inward, scorching my skin.
Lo i remain,
pensive and fickle
begging to be your humble, healing servant.
Please let me help you. Please let me save you.
I'll dash my own bandages from my wounds just to set yours.
Tell me where it hurts.
I tell you to not think of me, i'm not worthy of the thought.

Sarcasm


Can't say I still wish,
that I'll be with you
Can't say I'll crave your kiss
and I'll miss you.

Can't say I dream of you
of the future that's untold
Can't say I can't go on
I'm frozen and cold.

Can't say i don't regret
that day I chose to stay.
Can't say I won't forget
those memories on display.

Can't say I want you
or even consider it a need.
Can't say I will let go
wanting you is a greed.

Can't say I want to tie you
in an unknotted rope.
Can't say I'll hold on to you
you were my only hope.

Can't say I want an extension
of what we have yesterday,
Can't say its desperation
coz you didn't want to stay.

Can't say I really envy
the girl that has you now.
Can't say she'll better make you happy
and I really hope she knows how.

Can't say I still love you
even tomorrow or today
Can't say you left me
waiting endlessly at bay.

I'll ask you to repeat everything
and remove "can't say"
You'll see nothing
but the truth in this poem I relay.

So who ever birthed this version of
mans needing to blame another...
regrettably we seem to blame another...
but when it was stitched into the verse..
to many cooks cooking to many in verse..

But then he slipped in free will, will
he let us grow our own apples but
now he let us choke on our will
to eat what we sewed, then we said, but...

Shoved in the cold, but still our path
was pre-written, but his spelling missed its path.
Now who can sink and swim, I'm not a fish?
but now those pre-written, drowning food for fish.

I'm confused and insecure, that I'm but a string
that just pulled, now tie in this piece of string?
What I'm just tied in a story not of my own.
But then I unknotted myself my stories my own.

I found that a path isn't just one but a crossroads
of my design. How many paths are crossroads,
how many fall between dead ends I don't care,
my life is my own, no abandonment issues to care.

I'll eat every dam apple, I want to eat to be me,
sulk to my freedom of thought ill always be me.
I'll walk this collection of glances, and look up seeing
the universe clearly, it a life of chaos that I'm seeing.

He brought all the nuances of pain
those that scratch the bottomless pit
and I still love his vain coldness
one that unsettles and rumbles
with icicles that bursts to iced pebbles
and the space between the ridges
turned to hours, hours to days
and the silence became a punishment
as if banished to feel the pace of another
and how I saw his veins lay unsettled
splitting the tensions of the rotating clock
as if to utter some words and remedies
as if to narrate sonnets of the longing peace
but every warmness was ignored
and the tenderness was destroyed
until love became a wrestling field
of unjust manipulation and control
and the playfulness withered
right at the corner of where we played
making those magical connections
of the energetic pull and push
and his essence made me die again
lost in the woods of the sweet dreams
and now we bid,lonely and unwanted
growing yet another notch unknotted

Can't say I still wish,
that I'll be with you
Can't say I'll crave your kiss
and I'll miss you.

Can't say I dream of you
of the future that's untold
Can't say I can't go on
I'm frozen and cold.

Can't say i don't regret
that day I chose to stay.
Can't say I won't forget
those memories on display.

Can't say I want you
or even consider it a need.
Can't say I will let go
wanting you is a greed.

Can't say I want to tie you
in an unknotted rope.
Can't say I'll hold on to you
you were my only hope.

Can't say I want an extension
of what we have yesterday,
Can't say its desperation
coz you didn't want to stay.

Can't say I really envy
the girl that has you now.
Can't say she'll better make you happy
and I really hope she knows how.

Can't say I still love you
even tomorrow or today
Can't say you left me
waiting endlessly at bay.

I'll ask you to repeat everything
and remove "can't say"
You'll see nothing
but the truth in this poem I relay.

You can write a poem
In a thousand different ways.

Here, I laid the words out
In prose, like one long rope

Unknotted, with the knowledge
That I will look back

And cut the cords
According to how

I wish to sing.

To know the truth
it's as if not knowing it at all,
it only hurts,
it aches
but at least we know
what's going on

because the truth is
Like a knot around our necks,
meant to be unknotted,
to allow us to breathe

"All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts"
-Shakespeare, As You Like It

Panic flocks to an actor's lip:
my perch and cackle cauldron eyes
grow to zeroes at the bed-end of this,
the only stage & staging of my play.

The plot unknotted shows that
money's short and friends are few,
the body betraying itself busily:
an absurd third act.

The audience talks over my lines,
ignoring the tree tops exploding,
the neighbors *******, the heavens
& the hells standing empty.

Yet they hush when the curtain rises
on mosquitos haunting a Brazilian cafe
dotted in cochineal - Aperol spritzes
scatter along a failing, darkling rail.

We can't pick our audience;
neither can we deny that they
can only do their best within their needs,
nothing else or more,

& midnight confessions, truest
& heart-rent soliloquies, are nothing now
but furtive scrawls across a torn ticket,
swept up when the house lights come on.

concerning yours truly
poor righteous leftist sole.

Attempting nightly ritual
nsync with sole and
instep of beat
January second 11:33
two thousand twenty two
footwear equipped with
custom made cleat
proudly standing tall
(think) as an elite
able, eager, and ready
to sprint skyhigh fleet
ting into netherlands
(towering well over
other wiry contestants,
hence exception to

maximum height waved
outrageous illegitimate forfeit
chore blithely Atlas shrugged off),
the fountain head
whereby marathoner Olympian
amidst godly pantheon did greet,
then melted starter blocks
competitors crouched tigerlike
deftly gunning generating barreling heat
fast as greased lightning
Achilles catapulted courtesy blur,
zee mister (oak kay)
tree - man, i.e. helpmeet,
he roundly squared off
accompanied by his wifely entreat
for sakes Pete.

Thus situated, positioned, and finagled
husbandry duty obliging the misses,
no matter she kick started
(think thrashing outsize toddler)
childish task deemed
markedly cockameemie design,
subsequently these little feet (mine)
stood stolid upon bedroom floor
she did man date me,

supplicating, necessitating,
imploring, and decrying divine
intercession, cuz thee mademoiselle
did authoritatively assign,
thee mister getting mine
handy dandy grip upon her supine
corpulent physique
outstretched leaden legs
awaiting (the missus)

salute perfect sign
to commence powerfully
prying and pulling
first straight then nine
tee degrees practically pulling
footloose and eventually
detaching fancy free
thunder thighs, what strong
amazing anatomical design

nearly defying might
of super rich a$$ a nein
bird brainer heron
an ill eagle cro-magnon scheme
to untie clodhoppers
snug as a bug in a rug,
whence laces unknotted free
and clear whirled,
wide webbed formerly tangled skein
fo shoe more intolerable
than swallowing quinine.