I fly
       through the branches avoiding
                                                     their reach
indiscriminately
       like a long-tailed magpie
                                                      I reach
into ******* and pull out hearts
          in small broken pieces to feather
                                                        my nest.

my ultimate judge of things
Missy, if her tail wags it's good
I often recite poems to her
and she rarely flicks her tail
a stray like me, she Is mostly Black Lab
and has sense confidence and good judgements, except
for wanting to chase anything on two wheels,
well she loves Foghat
despises Scorpion or other hair bands.
Her job is to mostly lie around
and on occasions flip the tip of her tail if she likes a song
or my dancing or  my poems.
She is a tough audience,
and I admit trying to bribe her
with bits of hot dogs and bologna.

always churning the dichotomies
what life is light dark
then turning to view the sunset
in your eyes  
the view
changes into
heart bursts and sunrises
no matter what time of night it is
stars hold no place in my eyes
nor does a full moon
when glowing I catch
the slight glimpse of gold in
your eyes your soul shines

what makes the dawn so light
the day so bright
what makes a night
but innocence and sight
gone
I have been blind so long
to beauty to ever long
again for
sunlit  days going on and on
never ending
my eyes
blinded
where night and day
gets all
turned around

if written if I thought before typing this might make some sense anyways I have drifted from my purpose and forgot why I started this but to save the essence I go on meandering without a theme and does that make my day without sun or my meaning any more interesting like I have any cares when daily struggles are so near and death and loss are so much more poetic than anything I could possibly dream up so I go on streams of some poet said a long time ago about thought thinking better when like he planned his stream like outlined his whole thing he wrote all of a sudden.

amidst the summer sweltering giving
like a river flowing down the mountain
which has clear flowing brookside fragrance
from a tall nature cleansing rightful her
own child     in the clear   water breaking
from the springs and winter thaws
to bless the green grass and man and trees
once again, all worthy of your
innocence and fair in your eyes.

I am sick, you know!
ill,
with prosaic flu,
my temperature goes
through
the 100 degree ceiling,
bitten
by this bug that rivals a drug,
and when high enough
i have caesura(s)- temp over 102
now,
my conceit, a consonance
infected by resonance,
a pentameter of unwritten
disease my doctor says, that
no quatrain will cure,
the medicines unknown
for
this ache in
my head.

She keeps her lawn mowed very pretty her palms
every day she rakes or 
tends concrete or wood circled gardens.
Clipping, and tending, nature.
I got a problem with it.
I have six years of pine cones
grass, where it grows up to my knees,
weeds of immense statures,
I'm sorry I bring her property value down.
I like au natural , ok, I am just  lazy.
I like living in a forest, naturally
debris gathers, and nature has her way with.
She, nature, has a way of dealing with.
Why can't I?
I asked her one day, just being me, dumb!
" I did not know Palms were
indigenous to Alabama"

It won't be found
    on Google Maps,
nor in the constant
   tippity taps,

or in the boom
   of bass filled rap
or text of *******
   and genitals

lost in technology
   as such
lost in society
   is much

of what we
  truly search and seek,
and that only
  need- is human touch.

If    I don't stop    
empathizing I am
gonna bury my ***
under souls    the
beggers
the down trodden
but I never will
no matter what pile forms atop me
If I can still breathe
I am gonna see hope from his armpit between her legs
from the bottom of humanity
and beg
just ease up all you upon me let me
have one breath ok
there now I am with you again
let's fight just get off me
run ! run , that's it
I will catch up
I am wheezing

needs desires possibilities
no one can defend
rationally
leave them I wish
somehow someday
just when
I look forward wondering
another life
possibly
the life I am a flower
a tree
a milled seed
food for all
powder

Awake !
Wake, my dearest!
come to me here, hear me now!

Sweetness,
call my name once more
One time more
let my ears hear now
your reassurance.

ambivalence and taunting fears of demon songs, false dreams and nightmares ,now, I
hear .

I pray to hear your treble call
my bass into a heaven we dreamed about,
wake, awake my dear!

The every day of us poetically  inspired catches
in spasms an un-living thing
inspiring light and treasures we rearrange
writing lonely in the dark we seek to reignite
catch that  fire again that
word drab when heard rearranged
with our desires our dreams and
add a little fire  within to it  while
we change reality a bit at a time
into poetic dreams.

love and life
like
big red noses
  shoes too big
Egos
   three rings( or) circuses-
a tent with
    elephants,
dogs riding bikes,
   acrobatic charges
*** and a
   made up  reality,
Big hair selling
   popcorn and peanuts
to us, like monkeys,
   on display.
freaks magic costumes
   a day a week
a life a love so changed
inside the tent
of life's circus.
All us clowns
need to laugh.

I paradox questions, ask
me, to what I wish for
what i want, Or, is the word I search for,
desire?
  whim is soft, whispery
would never fit, poetically,
my emphasis I seek.
I require a design of permanence,
Or do I?
Need requires, want desires,
whim is sudden
specific to now,
nit pick,
I do
what I meant.

of some hard rock
out of snow powder
the alarm ringing in the morn
when I have had two hours shut ******* eye
I love hell out of some butterbean ****
a handful of ***
the last drop of malt liquor
the taste of that last kiss
the sound of an unmuffled
69 Mustang
red of course
drive in movie screens
old quality movie stars:
Audrey Hepburn-
Holly Golightly-
you'll always remain in my
brain

many many
           flavors it comes
appendages entwined
           or a parental kind
degrees resist
           and are graded here
as is a failed attempt
           it does exist!
We are rewarded here
           for concept
and purity
           and fireworks
or fizzled fuze
           when it comes to love
it is not confused.

none reads
I feel like I have been jilted
by my dreams
like finding my best girl with
oh hell, I won't go there.
I get so downright  frustrated
now since , ( her name was Jezebel,
his was Anthony,)
I drifted again...
now I get frustrated
when Hello Poetry goes down,
just reminds me of finding
Anthony with a big smile,
Jezebell on her knees...******

for every flower likes a stem

poetry is diverse with ******* symbolism

the tree stands tall aglow in the mists

oysters and beer make me see them

cloying metaphors for

a good squeaky bed spring

what do I say in them

those times when silence makes

a stranger sound

seems to rise above the going and coming

silence pierces the grasping ears with reality

a crescendo of

Oh god!

blue at times on the cusp of something deep and profound
or careless on  the brink of a laugh at me
or subcutaneous itching all over for something new
now I am in between caught right there where I doubt
the next meaning and **** itch
is quite annoying
as are the little thoughts sprung forth from inside to
fleetingly go away as fast

In 89 the heat seemed hotter
here in south Alabama
when waves of rays on asphalt
black created nightmares
on my every day.

my wife and children
in waves of misery drifted away from me.
An unfair judge said since I was hung
they were to be hers.

I stood there with my pants at my ankles
feeling castrated.
I helped create my children. Where was my jury?

Eventually, through honesty, love
perseverance, and continuously holding my tongue,
my children came back, knowing the truth.

I love them.

I had a little  money found myself
bellied up to a bar in Louisville
making the beer- keep keep it flowing
for long tall Sally and Gloomy in the corner
for even Johnny come lately
and pass around Patty
for annoying talkative Bill
and shy Patsy
even bought the  broke guy outside
the cheapest bottle of ***** available
ended up going home broke
wobbling , Patsy my crutch.
I would like to think
she was being charitable.

gathered tense on a cliff of realism as I tried so hard to make you three
dimensional
and I fell again into dreams
drug delusional
and saw
that's why you weren't here.

daffodil
          in the garden
try to shower the moon
                   spray every star
like a tomcat tail in the air
                        or a skunk defending
                                           his own
his home territory
             in the woods
**** on the pine trees
                    let it flow on
like a fire hose turned loose
                             or a trunk of
an elephant.

**** on my grave shows me,
           at least you.
remember me!!

a little later the truth came out
plainly clear to see like it always does eventually
awakes with time all of man to truths
Aristotle and Plato got lost for
centuries but stood again
in a Renaissance
so what I said to you will
be resurrected under monolithic ghosts
of huge stones with no one understanding their purpose
or how the Red American of the 21st century ever created
full towers of babble in the future and so
I will then turn over
in my grave.

what will I create tonight?
a question uttered in my head-
will it flower or fall dead?

echo in delight or encounter dread?
all is open, I question me again,
what is the purpose?

what may this pursuit bring into being?
Imagining worlds of words and inner voices
magical or hauntingly.

verify....
        that when
young we assigned
flesh to beach sand
inventing the echoes
of conch shells the
blued eyed skies
defying harsh gritty reality
expressing ....
         that which
young we wished for
on concrete sidewalks
relying on mass consciousness
to make the veil of our life, less
depressing....
         a slight twitch
a euphemism
for seeing and not being ready

someone done stole my baby
ran off with her in the night
updated her right out of my life
put her in some hideous makeup
made her a ****
a lowclass streetwalker
I search everywhere
can I get her back?

if I had  only heard you call
sweet bird
chirp when I was noticing
when I had senses
those days long ago

now I sit and watch on the perch
a mute Mockingbird
a woodpecker with a sore bill
a Robin with no robin hood

a sparrow alone on a  limb
talking to himself
a  leaf waving in the breeze
and always the songs remembrances
softly haunting

and drown in the desert
fall from eyes a dry tear and witness
the effects
that spoken words have
between mountains and winds that might be taken
in in sorrow but bless all
are not listened to
when all is golden
and so never
answered when you need help.
It is left to us
to resolve if hypocrisy
is to blame or
are acrid tears
always meant to fall
on deaf ears.
Tears are meant.

And deserts die.
The rain is wet.

i am quite used to strutting and
spreading my tail feathers as wide as my *** allows
calling whistling
walking the fence row  and the coops doorway
displaying all I got like a peacock
on thanksgiving  giving all the hen turkeys hell
saying in clucks what up beeitch!
I am not used to , however
that  god ****** hawk hovering over
circling
knowing I am a failure

my heart so enclosed
it seems in one of those
blister pack things that are
bulletproof
so hard to open you cut the hell out your fingers
or hand trying
to get into

beats  musically  the eternal
recalls remembers replications
rhythms  flows  driven
we just act innocent, is it all  all about hooking up
attraction, repulses magnetic ferrous responses,
******* or not,  crude, or maybe
I am not fooled.
It's all about how many times we get a nut.
How powerful we are, the total amount of
genetic code we leave.
Only one way
to do that.
We are,
all animals.

I,
individually divided,
we seen in dreams
together...... remaining as I wake.
Separated we desire, breathe,
the same.
A piece of a whole.
Go through through reality
and see.... obsessions, desires.... cosmetically
similar.
It is all so much simpler.
No matter
  the color or place,
face
or mother,
we....
are all the same.

Written, felt
things that never happened
delved into feelings realisms
only philosophers observe
imagined worlds
of pureness of soft
pelts petted a kitten
took in an orphan
hugged a flower
felt for a bug
flew with angels
eagles and moths
climbed tallest mountains
just reaching for God
or saw visions of clarity
amidst delusions of haunting
reality
fell down at times we had wished
we stood tall
and been heroes when no
one else was around
we have shed a fountain
together apart
to make the deepest ocean enamor
We've and I and you and her
and  him and that dog that cat that flea
have just lived
like that mysterious thing
that sent the Universe
spinning around
just look
in a mirror

sobriety would not exist
or for poor
not one would be rich,
if mercy was alone would we
ever be? Merciful.

If egotism disappeared ,
would one notice humility?
If all was one, four legged
creatures gone, or slithering creatures walked,
would any comparison be feasible?

If hurt and despair were sunken down in oceans or buried deeper still
under land,
If above the burial fields we walked forever,
would life be comparable?

If but for opposites, right without wrongs,
men without women,
time even drinking a beer thinking,
would be non-existent.

rescue me  precise word then
concise
fall effortlessly from my tongue
  wise

the fallow field looms on
as the sky draws nigh dark
forlorn
fuzzy seeds from dandelions
grow high on the breeze
furrows run straight on over the slight rise
of the mid hill
on the eastern side
all seems peaceful
and the moon speaks his misty taunt
over the dark silhouettes
of evergreens
planted years ago to break
the wind
all is  calm
I feel farrowed forlorn
watching
I feel silhouetted


on a horizon
on the eastern side
on top the slight rise
following the furrows

I walk on

was four balloons in the sky ,
cut loose to fly,
at the end of the auto dealers day,
I was done with my building a shower
awaiting my ride, outside.
The four balloons took flight
in a mostly blue sky, seemed to have
a direction in mind.
They were flying away from
the eastern grey clouds
into the more calming
west, filled with
fluffiness and calmer breezes,
I called to them, lying on
my back in the grass.
Hey you, blue balloon,
hey red one, okay yellow,
do YOU hear me, the white
one shimmered.
Hey, don't forget me. Come
take me with you, pretty
things, so free
and unencumbered
by things down here,
they seemed  gay,
one after the other, separated
by a few hundred  yards
I felt burden free for a minute.
I guess they inspired me.

I found,  long ago, to first say thank you very much,
when online or at a dinner table, to
keep my elbows down
and chew with my mouth closed.

To, if I find an ungnawable chunk of gristle
I can't swallow, discretely take a napkin
and put it to my mouth
say hey!
Who is that and point, as I spit it into

the napkin then go on, enjoying the cultured gathering,
sip , with a finger , a pinky pointed in the air,
my tea and never spill
hot liquids.
I learned all that

at the nudist camp

there are so many stupid people
in this country

All of all
              uneasily awaits. unearthly songs
****** gates,
              to other worlds, other places,
behind the
              many barren faces.

As a stream
             made into lake behind
the dam of
             earthen make, the other worlds
other places,
             lie beneath calm water faces.

On legs of
             pain with burning eye, through echoes
of sanity's
             last cry, beyond the realm of a thousand ages
can be seen
             the cloudless sky, of other worlds and
other places,
             that lie behind the many faces.

stir circuses out of the whirlpool
lakes of sky reflect on you
tangential yellow downy snow flakes
flutter down around
sounds make fools of ears the echoes
round round vibrate
then time stands still reality is and
it is all horrid ashamed
we you I grip our ankles
fall over into
the abyss
chasm spasming
petrified
life has caught up
they see everything
I am caught
a serious fraud
the Freud to your ego

Heated
Baths of liquid gold on
Skins of alabaster cold
Were the touches
Of her hand
On his body
In his soul

All spent of spirit
weak and mortal
I become a willing
double, wish to be immortal.

Take me while I am willing,
while I am not fearing!
While I am dizzy with looking for an end to this.

If a new beginning o eternal
rest, or condemn me to the fire below
for all my sins, I wait. Ready.

Judgement, was told to me,
by Father's, Son's, and Holy Ghost's,
in psalms and in reality.

So, I cast no stones. Closed my eyes ,
and tried
to look at me.

Now so tired, I see,
my sins my never reaching
dreams never doing enough.

I cast my remains upon the
pyre to burn for sins and wishes:
time is fleeting.

Take me while I see.

are automatically enrolled in some
jury
after THEY get saved

believe what they do

forget their sins


what happened behind the closed
doors with
indignation
righteous forgetfulness .

Condemning
is so easy.

That is why a god should be

IS

so forgiving.

Hey
me kitty sweet babay
my desire me ecstasy my dream
my day and night my sun my set my moon
I orbit my galaxie my universe ,
this is all unrehearsed,
my gravity I am drawn to, my soil I grow in,
my today, my tomorrow , my pleasure and sorrow,
my Queen, my kitten, I wish I could pet.....
I am going to the beer store...will be back. Call me.

the salt breeze air the smallest things
the vapor song on valleys in the morning hanging veil like
misty air
wonder what they hide
there
the green trees on the edge
of the forest the of an overgrown untouched
someone or something
I travel wondering
mystic like
almost so many things wondrous to expose
these years days or moments
i have left
so I sit in the van
trying to stay between the lines
when I have
this urge to
veer

I heeded her dying words
the very last breath when barely I heard,
I will never truly leave you

I remember how I really did not hear, she spoke
almost without words,
as I wept next to her

with mind so full of fear I quieted
my thoughts and recall
turn to memories to resolve

and feel and hear everyday
her words and soul,
very, very near to me.

thunder with my eyes
beauty in her radiance heard
lost dark and  light
sweet and salty been
near
the moistness of many tears
called upon the deities
cried out for forgiveness
sinned as a devil fork tongued
been the forgiver
been forgiven

saw the Valley and the hill
the long track of life
the many steps taken the many steps lost
been saved and saviour
both good  bad and between
been an artist and a creator
a lost soul

among the many things the vales and
pinnacles I have roamed like a sheep
and I seek a shepherd or a light
or something that makes more sense
to me

but in case
in the case life is but a jest
a game I see
I played all sides of it
may that make me
less guilty
less me

in the end