i have a break at 12 o'clock
will you please come over
you don’t have to knock
i’ll leave the door open
it will be unlocked
a bouquet of flowers
i’ll have in stock
a vase and a candle
a knife and a blade
a face and a cigarette
its all about the way we explain
i mean rationalize away
do time-lines justify our decline into tyranny
send me back again to sublime infancy
retrofit the celibate instigator
lemniscate the elephant’s fingerprints
impress me with wit and charm
storm troopers unarmed
star-gazers, shadow-haters, sand-blasters, ice-skaters,
morning's lovers, fathers, daughters, shoulders and elbows
rub brows and crease foreheads
wrinkles in your timelines
define lines as destiny unwinds
reminds me of blinding light
the heights of old empires
sire warriors, stories as tall as soldiers
for real, heal the split between mind and body
kindly, lovingly, bump up against me
and kiss me again
i am music fused together with eternity
space and dust and rusted armpits
a hundred diamonds, drops of sweat
skin like leather, weatherproof, foolproof too
determine to use it all
for you are the muse of all
do as you need to
fuse it together lest it come apart again
return to heaven and mend the tear
split the hair or the atom
magic is a language
tragic is the cancerous neglect of syntax
emptiness is manic
gargantuan attacks of presence
defenseless, we are taught worthless ****
neglect it, but remember important words
stories, looms of drawings
forming in my mind’s eye
i cannot be bought or controlled by pirates
the best moments are private
you are not invited
so go home and create your own zone of entertainment
its necessary
your gentle fingers
blessing my soul
courage to roll with life’s blows
no need for stoics
or poets who deny reality’s arguments
slippery slopes
walking tight ropes
can you cope with all this mistletoe
restring your bow
dance in the snow as if everyone knows
you are crazy in love with the whole
motionless vision swift as an arrow
roofless rooms
prom queens flip you off and turn you on
sons and daughters, lions of the prairie
a child portable and small
respects the walls that you’ve made
they are not your cage but your shelter
self culture is affluent and not arrogant
sand mandalas tall as waterfalls
golden rainbows pour from the faucet in the sky
like mighty images
wisdom bridges the gaps in our imagination
i can’t wait to get this on the page
written in stone, reflecting thrones
made from the bones of pharaohs
consciousness narrows as you approach
are you a cockroach, coach or a student
strokes of wonder for different folks
cold call your own homes
do you prioritize lightning over thunder
words over rubber
sandwiches to clutter
are you interested in diamonds or other
precious gemstones
that flutter like butterflies when i utter
emeralds like butter
do you waste time arranging your clutter
stuttering utter nonsense
frequencies wasted, gentleness chased away
fantasies radioactive
magic lacks targets
darkens our fathers
keep chasing actions
satisfaction is attractive
your eyes are like fragments of rubies in the fire
i see beauty in desire, features in the sky
i look skyward and see higher
minds are wired to remain stagnant
stranded in a lack of entertainment
change this and make your own amazement
wonder over thunder, lick me down under
gone asunder like the burning acropolis
topple this bottomlessness
can't stop this, its impossible
i wonder do you make blunders
in underground mountains
we shout words like fountains shoot water
curtains topple over
and form a blanket over our consciousness
after our performances
swarms of crazy people leave the theater
shattered and too stunned to speak
to ****** to leak they keep walking down south
toward Plymouth Rock,
Mammoth Mountian or Rehoboth Beach
take stock of the situation and just move
first one out is rewarded
sordid and sorted like straw from the hay stacks
caskets of black iron casings
tastings of wine whose shelf-life is expired
past due cheese overripe and stinky
like mustard dusted with lightning
striking on time is all that we have
thinking that was a close call
we fall down and get up, remove the uppercuts
and lowercases from our mouths
doubt is a ***** word heard too often,
coughing from a coffin she offers me her hand
cold as ice cream, these nouns are deafening
love is lazy like a muffin
and hot like a dumpling
but a liaison with time cannot be rushed
i have lived long enough to learn this
a privilege to give birth to this moment
again and again vintage feathers
send me your sweaters
detest impostors who give robotic answers
i am in wonder at all this grammar
that i was unaware of
ignorant as mustard
and smooth like custard
in this blustery weather
i am glad i wore a sweater
and have an umbrella
to keep me dry and safe
i am in love walking toward the gate
and boarding that plane
i am your heart served on a plate
with a side of coleslaw, soul food for dinner
you are a winner and i am your hunger
a porcelain gravestone
a copper bathtub with claws
stored in your basement
storerooms cold as a skating rink
please don't think, unless its about me
let sentences drift away
while we chase arguments from yesterday's
armistice

Treated the plywood to be weatherproof, jigsawed to size base, sides and roof.
Applied non-toxic wood glue,
clamped pieces 'til sturdy and dry
not forgetting an entry hole through which birds may fly.
Took time with the birdhouse,
hung it snug in a tree.
If it will be used for the winter
I'm waiting to see.

Mounds of sheets and piles of pillows
(It's slightly hot in here!)
Sitting up, I brush my head against
The drooping blanket roof;
Silver light and sounds of rain and wind
Add to the cozy cheer
Of curling in a blanket fort, completely
Weatherproof.
Our classes have been cancelled, we're
Advised to stay inside:
We'll don our robes and steep our tea
Against the stormy cold,
And take advantage of this unexpected
Break to go and hide
In blanket forts and make believe
That we are five years old.

Newport Beach, what is it with this town everybody drives too fast
yeah we all noticed your lime green Ferrari when you sped past you *******
"vanity plates" doesn't begin to describe the aluminum cast egos
"RICHFOX", IGOTABS", "FASTCEO", plates on a Bentley
"My other car is a Land Rovy", "*** I heart ME"
and these stiff ****** walking around in hand tailored three piece suits
they'd have em sewn outta greenback cash if it was weatherproof
three thousand dollar watches on hands reaching into deeper pockets
they've got money clips where their ***** should be but that’s OK
because their personal trainer's just ******* em for their money anyway
I wish I had thought sooner to invest in a Hoover vacuum and some safety glasses
I could've made a fortune having the fat ****** out of their pampered *****
lazy ***** skipping out on two-hundred a month gym passes
or on a treadmill in six hundred dollar Dolce and Gabana glasses

Jealousy isn't my point it's the way they treat me
I roll up a sleeve, show a little ink and suddenly I'm beneath their feet and sinking
it's an interesting cliche the Orange County caste system
I'm an untouchable on the wrong side of the money math's division
I'm lucky to get a Hi, Hello, or How's your morning going
forget about small talk on the elevator it's a capitol offense but in their defense they are pretty busy
Blackberry, cell phone, head set, text the boss, black cherry, compact, secretary's lip gloss
plus they can smell how much my cologne cost and by their looks i just smell filthy without the rich
I don't speak any French but does "couture" mean self-centered *****?

Newport what is it with this town everybody loves themselves too much
they're living life for the corporate success ladder climbing gush
55 at the 5 by the 405 and the 22: the Orange crush
every freeway you ever needed to feel free to live in a huge rush
the reason their sick cars mash six speeds on a German clutch
to hurry up and get to next seasons sales meeting about nothing much

Newport what is it with this town they aren't birthing humans they're breeding the rich
working the counters for the nouveau riche
Newport everyone I've encountered in this town is a self centered *****

To brand new horizons, across the vast wide sea,
The God to whom I'm praying, believes so much in me.
He says that I'm not barren, I'm the fruit of His own vine.
But sometimes I feel badly, for I fall so many times.
Into this great abyss, of lies and twists and turns,
so sadly was I walking
down the road that made me burn.

To bright and new beginnings, my candle shows the way,
I follow in the footsteps, where saints and angels play.
Surely we're not lonely, though it seems we need so much!
I will try to tell you strongly, my dear, that desire is not a crutch.
But don't think that desire, that want that's always there,
can be satisfied with worldly things,
those things that can ensnare.

To lovers who are joyfully invited in the truth,
who wait for true love's fulfillment, in a castle weatherproof.
They know the bounds of where they walk, they know they way is hard,
But having faith in things unseen, can often help at large.
For whom but Him can he be for she? Or him for her we wish?
That’s just they way the world goes ‘round,
Like a beautifully swimming fish.

To romping around with new curtails a-flying,
our heels kicking up in the breeze.
Little foals on the inside, we neigh out some horsie-pride
With laughs floating up high, giving breath to the summer trees.
Let your hair down and out, dance like tomorrow’s the end-
because everyday is a gift.
I know not the time, but if it’s this mountain we climb,
why don’t we strive to reach the top?
Together, He said, so I felt safe in my head
knowing that I would never He drop.

Eyes: Stars. I can’t help but wish on them, holding my breath, standing on tiptoe, hoping. They promise so much.
Arms: Branches and vines. Reaching, wrapping, holding. You break what you let go of; you choke what you keep.
Legs: Thunder thighs and tree trunk calves. You frown like it’s a bad thing, but you’re strong; you’re steady, sure, solid. You are a forest and a storm.
Laugh: A flash of lightning. An instant of blinding, dazzling music in the midst of my storm.
Shoulderblades: Bookshelves. My head is a journal, thoughts spilling over. You are strong enough to bear even the heaviest of my words.
Tongue: A forest fire. I still have a second-degree burn from the first time you told me you loved me.
Hips: Hills. You are mountains and valleys, and I want to take a walk and get lost in you.
Feet: Anchors. They team up with gravity to keep you here. And so you stay.
Chest: A strongbox overflowing with treasure. Your heartbeat is the song your whole body sings, kept in time to your pulse, flowing through your veins.
Ribs: Boards on a ship. Weatherproof, waterproof. This means my tears (saltwater, too) will not ruin you when they fall onto you.
Hands: Morning glories with green-veined leaves. Opening, closing; beautiful every time.
Mind: A maze. You’re a puzzle I can’t solve and a line I cannot rhyme. You are never going to make sense, and I love that.

Faster than any sneaker
Quicker than a naked streaker
Dignity with a rubber sole
But with leather enforce to crime in behold
No Running Man Sole that meets its match
But for the record you won’t be able to catch
A solid weatherproof shield
The identity of Running Man Sole I can’t reveal
He is a super hero who is well concealed
Running Man Sole who takes commitment to crime
Don’t even think about dropping a dime
The idea is too get rid of the slime
As Running Man Sole moves swiftly into the sunset
Crime is at its match and Running Man Sole being the best bet.

You told me you were an abandoned building
Left rotting in the sun
Elements creeping in
On your walls and foundation
Tearing down your roof and structure
I am not so
Come with me
I will show you myself

In the skeleton of my head
Ceramic figures sit
Silent, sentient
On cobweb shelves
Pictures of you hang on the walls
Nailed into a flesh colored wallpaper
*****, coffee stained carpeting
Leading from the attic of my mind
Down the back of my skull
Vertebrae circular staircases
Winding down and around
Through floors and floors
Of keratin wainscoting
Dusty shelves overcrowded with books and trinkets
Plastic dinosaurs and matchbox cars
A room full of doll houses
Plastic mommies and daddies
Driving four seater lithium battery powered doll cars
Cooking over two burner stoves with imitation heat
Playing pretend, I know this game best

Rooms with filing cabinets stacked up to the ceiling
When you pull out the drawers
Files and paperwork going back and back and back
Blue crayon bills of sale
Newspapers and emails color coded for different emotional reactions
Red folders with locks, chains, and warning signs
CAUTION FLAMABLE

Rooms empty of windows
***** of string for dust bunny cats
Baby teeth still tethered to the end
Strung between doorknobs and skeletons
The last flight of stairs
Leads straight down to a flooded basement
Salt water filling up cracks in the concrete
Bulkhead door latched shut
A femur stuck between the handles
You'd have to break a bone to escape

You follow your nose down passages
With markings saying 'connect here'
Finding comfort
In the smell of sage burning in between hip bones
Incense rising through chimney stacked ribs
Puffing out through a nasal passage

A few levels above
Curtains and blinds piled on top of each other
Trying to block out light
Pouring in through two blue tinted windows
Hollowed out, stained glass eyes

Mute little birds fly around in a tiny menagerie
Tiny parchment paper scrolls attached to their ankles
House arrest thoughts
Sometimes little rivers over flow
Down a façade of brick walls into little wells
To dry to hold wishes

In the right wing
Traveling down the arm
Little passage ways with doors
Swinging open and shut
Little electric trains blowing stops and whistles
Running around and around
Five little engines
Puffing out coal and smoke
Until they hole themselves up
In tunnels at night

In the left wing
Plates and dishes smashed on the floor
Ceramic shards rearrange themselves
Into mosaics and pictographs
Sliding around on metal tiles
Until they grind themselves into a fine powder
Slipping though the floor
Little skin cells flaking off the siding

Dry scratching noises echo through the tunnel
Back to the skull
At the very crown of the building
Rope makers work tirelessly every day
Stitching brown threads into the ceiling
Packing insulation tight in perfect rows
Until the rain comes in and washes them out
Trying to weatherproof roofing shingles
That act as if they are no thicker than coffee filters

Sometimes the power surges to quickly
Everything goes dark
Batteries overheat
Unable to remember which switch to flip
Which circuit breaker to fix
Which wires to cut, splice, and fuse the ends
Where to put the band-aids so they will stick
Until they get wet
A four battery chamber transformer
Inducting molecules, protons, electrons
Gassing up to restart
Not knowing which end goes to which side
How to get the cover back on
So I don't electrocute myself
Fry the circuits, start a fire

I end up
Sitting in the dark, alarm blaring
Emergency sprinkler system going off
Making puddles of tears
To drown out my fears
All wired up
Overloading and burning out
Turn the wind turbines on
Let them dry up the mess
Blowing fresh air through stale lung chambers

The ache in my stomach refuses to part with me
Empty shelves in the pantry
Don't cry over spilled milk
Tear up, when there is none to spill
Empty glass jars sitting in boiling water
All jammed up
Refusing to cook
Because one time
The gas was, accidentally
Left running, on the burner
Fear is a smell I would prefer die without tasting
A tasteless life no sweeter

I close the doors.
Oaken ribcage of my halls swing shut.
Hinges creaking under the strain
I remember why
I don't let anyone in
It's to cold in here for me
To quiet for them
Hating how I feel
When left lonely
Without a friend
If the dark is all I now how can I fear it
I am not near it
Becoming what I always knew I was
Not a single cut above, or below
Not a mark uncounted
I am the one who makes flowers grow
On the inside of the earth
Down below
Down I go
To dance after death

Sun is beaming, outdoors' steaming
I have to stay aloof
Can't work outside; must stay inside
My heart's not weatherproof

Good plants wilt low; that's status quo
in this hot time of year
'less water's 'round to soak the ground
They'll up and disappear

But stuff inflates and proliferates
that HAS no liquid needs
those beds of clover taking over
those ******* shrubs and weeds

I'd wage a war; they'd learn the score
I'd see their kind decreases
I'd take my clips and trusty snips
and mince them up in pieces

But if I go out, the heat will shout
I'll wind up in my bed
My heart will flutter, race, then sputter
I'll likely wind up dead.

So, I must wait till temps abate
And I am feeling well
Then I'll go out without a doubt
And chop them all to hell