Snowing
                leaves in May
    astray,
the leaves
               in the breeze
                                    weave;
blowing the dead
               of winter away.
    The pine-needles,
              boughs, in precess
precede, indeed the Dance in May.

Lovebugs
            lead the Bur ****
- in trance-
            squalls
from mockingbirds enhance
      the sweet Ballet of May.

Butterflies
            pass the Alms Tray
in hands
             of  ants and flies and sand-
to the congregation of
              honey bees
   and hummingbirds
              who await-
the Yellow Rose's bouquet.

then on   the sand   walking together
barefeet  a step  whereever
we wanted to wander
hand in hand a shell
picked up
listened to
barely clothed
baked in the sun
quiet listening
to the waves crash
the shell echo
what a tender sweet summer
recall
you looked    then    at me
the sun behind you
my eyes glimpsed
eternity
as we walked
closer to the surf
hand
in hand

the nightmarish grey color
   eyes in the back of his head,
his last gasp a shutter
   you'll never forget,
when all you planned
   was for all you to get high
you and him and crystal,
    she is a good head girl,
and as he took his last breath,
    you found that last bit in his pocket hid it,
then called 911 cause Crystal was dialing 411, and
pounding his chest you screamed to him to breathe again.
As Crystal shoved paraphernalia under the couch.
The night the week the month ruined.
It all became a broken mirror,
Way more than seven years more bad luck.
More like a lifetime. And as you hit what he left you
the heard footsteps of doom creeping closer it lost
all the buzz.

for ringing
   division bells
hearing them ring too
     soon, threatened by shadows
of random precision cast
by the
      Dark sides of the Moon,
comfortably numb
       Time maddeningly
clocking ,
   the loonies in the hall,
hey you, out there getting
   old fading smiles
easing all your pain
     show me where it hurts
my hands two balloons
        now i have the fever again
so, I think can you tell
       tell if I can feel
smiles from what I might trade
       cold comfort for change
a lost soul
          a look in the eye
caught in the stutter of a cold breeze
         blowing shining
on misty reaching for a secret

to burrow underneath the hoarfrost the
howling winds cold burying the last signs
of fall the last robin's call to leave

to follow the life's call ode to sleep
as the wise bear does curling deep in a
cavern his sleep ignoring

the December's and January's
sun oblique
with misery  transposes the day
shorter  

bareness the trees the land the 'scape
in sleep the wiser among us
flee or doze

until, barely on the fly
might hear a whisper of
wings ,

see on the trees limbs
a slight greening
creep out from our hiding
or refuges

smiling at Spring

A volt or amperage an ampule injected not grounded
a spasm or epiphany a reckoning
encompasses
I melt voltaically into
warmth and jolt
concurrently metered
by hair standing on ends
legs arms nethers
convulsing
like two phased
polarity
not grounded!
I short out,
positively!

gotta see you someday I been  playing country songs all night
from dwight to John anderson all the cute girls
linda ronstadt to patty loveless
thinking about you
how you can't sing a lick  but
I still love to hear you try

misty haze awake the stars behind eyelids closed
asleep, you and I sleep...
and you and I are deep.

developing contrapuntal visions as you ride the wake
anon sounds deep sleep successively
around as entries echo repeat
astounding voice guide and ethereal choice
in three separate sections note

we awaken
the short main theme
the exposition is complete
and now we are as one.

Walking through the woods looking at squirrels scurrying pine
cones falling through

We hear our silence broken crunching the violets growing wild
as a something falls,
though

neither us, nor furry blurring animals see, all flinch as a finch flies
away, alarmed squirrels scurry

our path weaving, gently deceiving tomorrow not seeing, focused
on the past, we scurry hurriedly on our path worrying
, do we possibly miss
today.

just spit out the sides I awake
my mind peeking again
it seems
at ****** dreams, ***** words, non- innocent.
**** is always on the tip of my tongue.
Usually proceeded by Mother.
Very Oedipus.

I heard it as distinct as I hear my heartbeat
in my ears. A slight, faint plaint, from the corner
of my closet.
Was it a purr? Or a breath from a lost friend
calling me to look. Marge, a phantasm, memory?
Touched my shoulder. I heard words say,
look in the little box in the corner.
I did, as I thought of looking back,
and saw two eyes peep up. Grey white furry head attached.
They seemed to say to me, I am sorry.
I heard mews then, I knew.
My Babay, a stray I took in when I  lost her, was nursing four of
earth's miracles.
I haven't cried as much since Jan 7th.
I fed her tuna milk.
and, bought me a big
cigar, alternating,
between memories,
and the newness of life.

red pills in plastic
a little bitter

                      but fantastic
i am better
                       but still spastic
stupid still
                       reacting
just a little
                       more passive
a *******
                        on one red pill
is actually
                        better
than an *******
                        on ****
so I wash down one
                          with ale
ecstatic become
                            and feel
fantastic,
                           I wish.

the first would be for world peace
my second would be for eternal life
my third would be for three more

From Halogen bright headlights
rounding the corner The Darkness
boldly does not hide nor yield
to a 1000W bulb.

The Blackness bold and treacherous
stares deadly cold straight back at me,
ornery,
disobeys Einstein's theory,
particle and wave, still
in the dark
we remain.

I reflect every morn after one cup
of coffee and two cigarettes
play Sudoku
try to relieve me
logically this biological fact
smells when I try to

get up after playing
naked Twister until 3 am
and running out of Crisco at 4.

It is what's it, an o'dourves  on melody,
ears tuned to,
Again, again...again...
Beethoven or Mozart
timbers
threads strings dances on eardums
philharmonic, Building To sUch AN END!!!!
a pause, reposing low, resolving,
getting all the orchestra and Audience ready
for:
a little french horn, then flute...
tympanic growing
Violins again strumming.
A trill from a clarinet, a bass drum beating,
filling the lawn so full,
every soul on a last leg waiting
for the *******
END!!!.

with nothing in my mind
I trek on trying to discover
misty mountains
or ten years lost
Kashmir lyrics
in the House of the Holy
In the Evening
where
All my love
lies

with a bit of dual casual id ities
one day i heckle
the next i jive
all along
the rolly coasty ride
when in the valley
hide I do
on the peaks
I giggle
too much
you see
saw me there
a bit of bi-polarized

a deer
in the
glare of a midnight
blue
full sun
and half-moon
house of horror
carnival ride

a need to be the center
of attention
if I can climb out
from under the bed
earning my board
dressed  
as a siamese
twin

abuse fruit loops or watermelon rinds
in ****** rituals is just       wrong
right is cheerios and bananas just  
right for good times also a bit of ice and whipped cream
makes for a good scene
now then, Vienna sausages are not kosher to poker play her
with nor is bleu cheese, mozarella is just the twang sometimes
and a cold spoon sometimes does the trick,
Ritz crackers leave less mess between the sheets than salted or plain crackers
and to wash it down I prefer to Malt lick her.

I am to know: her skill she poetically makes me see
come: to a point,
conspiratorial at times, but, aren't we all?
orphans?
In shells With heads hidden in?
She is destined: nature  knows
she has an ear no matter how
sometimes: I yell, she always comes back.
She is from hell : or a guide sent to save me?
She knows all the words: knows every dead poet.
She grows: on me, and in my head more every way
with each day, wonderful.
She is my Queen, my muse:
my today: Tomorrow.

of crying violin on cello moonbeams
spending my spinning around
wet, filled eyelets, drumming in my heart,
rising me up, bringing me close,
under a delicate chin,
drawing the bow across my breast,
to a ledge, poses me delicately on a  quiet impasse, brings me
off the edge; varying from key to soft
then growing again,  impossible, so
to describe
orchestrally.

we are abiding
she has abode
I will abide
we will have abode

we are breaking
she has broken
I will break
we will have broken

we are going
she has gone
I will go
we will have gone

out of the corner of my eyes
when you don't notice
seen you be nice to homeless
men give a dollar to a crackhead
I bless
that you
are
blessed
goodness out
angel within
no doubts
I just love
you.

I have never seen a happier face
than his
and he was dirt poor
ignorant
or was he
came right out the mountains stinking
as bad as any badger or ****
had dirt caked from months
not bathing
and his smile was great as Mona Lisa's
happy and I reflected
in his lingering
essence
long after his smell left
out the airpipes airconditioned stuffy
surrounds I had become
encumbered with

hyper-ness evolving
in me, it's hard so hard to concentrate
distress of dancing feet
I feel like  jumping up now.
But, there is work to be done,
my nails need chewing and what about all the rest
I've left stewing that is needing doing?
My hair  is a mess. I look, oh hell.
I forgot to feed the cat, again.
She is meowing, it
kinda bothers me
but,
wait, oh my!
What was I saying

Taint , 'tween ****** and great
   is the isthmus I paint
white and creamy,
    a middle ground
down among red cheeks.
    I do not mind behind
or front and center,
I handle either with aplomb,
     It is when I am middle ground,
when I slip out,
you have the habit,
     of laughing out  loud!
I ain't!!

ever is where?
I am at it
      I never have seen
a ridge where night
touches the dew- or
     sunlight glows
on both the day and you.

There I sat upon
   a ledge teetering
fearing heights
              and the depths of darkness
     below. Tottered
down upon spoiled grounds.

Ever is where-  over a hill?
    may we ever see
sun glints-
      on green
      eyes
strong trees,
          sowing seeds
in sunlights.

To love,
      surety sure as the sky is blue
blue as any and all warmth
           of colored skin
true as truth on the lips
             of statues
of red lipstick on a rough chin
                  strong
as stronger hangs from steel
          taller skyscapes
and mountain limbs
            deep
deeper than a long call of
            an eagle soaring down
to her mate falling, falling
                  around down
down to almost crash
          but see
the seas as the blue rush crash
               on white sands beauty of
naked skin
                and hues of
sunlit scenes
                      in your bronze
brown skin your eyes,
    To love: In more brevity...
is all there is!

Then
The sun rose
On another day
On the cherry tree blossoming
Away. And the redbirds on limbs
Happier than larks and
A lone man on the porch
Just sitting giving thanks
Breathing deep sighing
A memory perhaps of days
Gone by and the blossoms smelling
Like they did and the sun bright as then and his breath just as breathless
As when he was younger

when that woman who struck your eye
one day pirouettes
around the lettuce to the red ripe tomatoes
several spectators their carts
separate your
purchase  from your desire
a big woman loading potatoes
and carrots her steel cage overflowing with chickens
*** pies and saggy ****\donuts and little debbies chocolate
sugar pills
and then the two year old in her mother's shadow
wary of the tall signs declaring bargain
harbors amid the frenzy
of all the selections offered freely
fears to loose the hem of the plaid skirt
her mother threw on carelessly showing her
pale thighs
thinking of
a dinner she prepared
for a tall guy handsome and young
a lifetime ago (she thinks where
is he now)
as crisp as new
as the asparugus arranged in rows
before she got married
and your desire
a new aisle has gone
to the flour sacks and sugar yeast powdery
wares aisle number three
and your imagination flows from the staples you came to
make the hunger again refrain from
idling your days nights your everything
to her ankles how they are so feminine
and how cat like quick her long red nails
flick the gravy in a packet to the bottom
of her basket she
concentrates on only one task
which pancake mix to buy
and your ego flips and sizzles like that sacrificial first
crepe the dogs fight over
your mind a mess you follow now
unconcious
your cart wobbling
always seem to get the noisiest one
unbalanced one wheel wobbling
back and forth
unsure of itself
as she lingers near
the cake mixes hoping she takes the strawberry one
and cream cheese frosting in a can
pretend you do that you are interested perusing studying
the shake and bake varieties BBQ and Classic ******* the boxes
one  eye on her choicest picks
while all the time preoccupied with
calves  and the back of her knee  her green cape
her eyes her red nails long fingers
the way she shops
like a goddess near her
tenderness a gourmet's dream
the choicest cut of market new
still the people nod and push through
most not heeding you
on a supermarket quest a game to win
puzzle stacks of cereal on special
arranged like pyramids
almost mid-aisle
careful you return to
reality and just miss toppling the Raisin Bran
monument
she has turned the corner
aisle four now
her with the calfs and that hollow  
back of a leg behind her petite knee
a sash
gay green in perfect contrast
draped over her bare shoulders
to her auburn hair
her legs longer
and more agile and god
you have bad thoughts
imagining
wait you say, thinking to your sotted self
this cart is empty it may be obvious my aims
so you gather two bags of instant grits
one box of starch you will throw out
and salt enough to last you to eternity
faster now walk push the loud wobbly out of balance cart
the box of starch bouncing among the torn grits pouring
now a path Hansel and Gretel would be proud of
you turn the corner your heart sank when she had
gotten out of sight
and faster now your urge is known trying to think of an
opening line
what brings you here   hell no
are you a Sagitarius  *** you fumble
again she is in your sight and her neck as she looks up to select
paper towels from the top shelf
is like a bird one of those egrets long svelte white
her chin a perfect cliff
and she has this way
you can only dream of
then
**** she spies you looks sly smiling
think of something to say idiot
fast take that bottom lip out from between your teeth
look confident give her back some of that I don't care
attitude be debonair
which you suddenly ponder is hard to do in here
in aisle four when
her green eyes are burning holes
like lasers in your cheeks your nose
wipe the wetness off your lips
you look into your cart
spying the half empty grits and the trail you left behind
but now is not the time to stutter or worry or defer
it's now or never
and you trip
over your two left feet
and push as you fall down
your cart
takes flight
annoying wheel calling
into her side
as you die
she laughs and says in angel's purr
I saw you there when I came in
I wondered were you ever going to catch up
and suddenly the speaker loud screamed in a dark
omniscient voice clean up on aisle four
on your knees now looking up
the embarrasment a price tag flashing
red  
as any apple cheeks
all that came out your mouth was
so sorry Madam
so you bellied up
a chance you manly took
took her hand and gently kissed it
thinking how by god
have I been blessed
and the story did not end there
you both had grits for dinner
and strawberry cake with cream cheese icing
and you can find your way back to aisle four
to reminisce every time you need to smile
just follow that trail of grits

Imagining when she used to fill it
Up with dandelions and greens
Set it the middle of the dining room table she bought
Same old thrift store she got
The flower covered vase from
And the old yellowed tablecloth
And it was always filled
With whatever wildflower or **** she could pick
And it signified in a way
Our love and dedication
How though poor we were so rich
And I appreciated then.
The tablecloth is put up
The vase sits empty.
The yard is filled with dandelions
And blooming clover
Lush greens growing wild.
Just like my heart.

All social commentary (warning)
   from this author from now on
is sent without any commentary from
the editors
here at me.
All, from hereon out, are not to be the editor's responsibility,
and the entire staff here at me, comment, his are not my words or meanings.
The words of word are his and since the editors
are drunk as me and ****** up as I (if not more)
I am including this, and
as you see,
this is
the result.

I have left one repartee one last sharp  mention
before the ball ends, and you go off dancing with him,
my fairest vision , my dearest memory, you did
not notice, my emotions were lost on thee, but
my presence happened to be quite in the moment,
and that is why, while you danced gaily,
I was in the garden with Prudence.

i.)  What comes after i.)

Oh yeah.

ii.) ******* having a rush from this absinthe

iii.)  Go back to i.)

into danger I walk again
just getting up
awaking from a world of dreams
I must try to
make reality

stagger out from under covers covering
sanity-into insanity again
this world's  become and looking
back since I was
young and naive,
always was

no where
no way
it is antithesis
to what I set out
believing
that heart
and feelings
overcame
the rude
scholars
the intelligence

to the core
somebody else is always worse off
I don't consider myself a saint
just a soul that hurts feels breathes,
as to the definition yes,
I get personal satisfaction
from it
I sacrifice, not in the sense I harm myself,
it is the problem of hell,
and I can do  my part.

last night on Free Credit check.com
it was as they said free, for me.
I awaited my number to appear,
a red warning light flashed
the page locked up
and kept me there
like an infested **** site does, I have heard,
when you search for free anything,
then in large case letters
this site said , because of me ,
they have lowered the credit ratings of every
lender that loaned me a dime.
I had to reboot my computer
and sign on in another name,
and
change my ssn#
and my phone number, again!
The phone rang all night.
My cat knocked it off the hook,
I swear.

she gives me
   with no expectations of getting returns,
thumbs up
   reasons to go on
loving all the
     days grey cold
or sunshine warmly
     in unconditional highs
I wish to lift her up
          sanctify
our love
   fight our demons
live forever
   propose
eternity
   to her.

drifting
I seem to live right there
anymore

the tide washes me clean
then crashes
me on the shore

I seem to ebb
with the moon's
phases

like the sounds
of the animals
bay and call

from the shore
the seagull's caw
every wave

my life my death
and I taste salty
and sweet

see depth
see foam and everything

mess around deep funk happens,
anonymously,
just about evenly.

you've got to know by now
some experiments turn out
to prove that the theories were wrong.

You could fly like a
dove, or land splat,
barren of love,
uncharacteristic of
energies shove..

running with abandon all people taste
like chicken, carbon statistic-
that mansions are often built with bones-
and when I lose my sanity, I know,
at least I will have seen.

Proud of the day
        with my dump of stuff
              facing fearlessly
Letting all
         of my things be seen
               answering
All of the questions
         truthfully nothing
                held back
all things remembering
         all the way
                through.
Like this.
      
proud of a day
      standing naked.

teeter-totter
  
up around side right down
a water pump or pendulum thrill
like Jack felt with Jill
  tottering down
was up

on the hill on a see-saw.

Either be it beauty, fame, wealth, or greed
or such as destiny or  luck , to wit,
what muse crawled into my brain
causes me to moan as such.
All is craftily insanity,
lame dreams, untalented
weaves my brain into this nest.
The best I have at present sent I send
unchaste, un pretend,
my poetry.

and all the baby crickets chirp
I got the daisies planted and then appeared
numerous
red black bugs
swarming the daises the elderberry bushes
the crickets just watched all the festivity
like who are they they are not me
that is cricket talk  
especially when young
and the boxelder bugs in
swarms respond
in red black harmony of numbers
it is we the red black bugs of sap suckering
I chuckled
the crickets responded
by rubbing their back legs together
almost like
applause

I had that epiphany moment where I realized I was
more than the ordinary
tightly dressed caped zero
capable of saving living things
like  kittens
stray dogs and I don't throw frogs against walls anymore
nor do I willingly hurt my nemesis
I try to tame them
with a song a dance trance them
you might call me
the reality show superhero
if I wanted to I could win
American Idol
but that would take precious time
away from my fighting crime
I sing to my dog and she sings  back
like she does when she hears sirens
and I could win a dance contest
I  dance with my kittens
or try to
they are still young enough to be skittish
I am truly a superhero to them
when I open a bag of chips or fry
pork chops
in olive oil and  spice them with garlic salt
which they think is catnip
and I write in a cape
and go sailing over clouds over
mountaintops
maintaining
superhero
type stuff
nightly
so
I know I am
a superhero
to them
to me
in
a
way
and Gotham
and Clayhatchee
and home for them
safe.

Mystic

The air is a mill of hooks -
Questions without answer,
Glittering and drunk as flies
Whose kiss stings unbearably
In the fetid wombs of black air under pines in summer.

I remember
The dead smell of sun on wood cabins,
The stiffness of sails, the long salt winding sheets.
Once one has seen God, what is the remedy?
Once one has been seized up

Without a part left over,
Not a toe, not a finger, and used,
Used utterly, in the sun’s conflagrations, the stains
That lengthen from ancient cathedrals
What is the remedy?

The pill of the Communion tablet,
The walking beside still water? Memory?
Or picking up the bright pieces
of Christ in the faces of rodents,
The tame flower- nibblers, the ones

Whose hopes are so low they are comfortable -
The humpback in his small, washed cottage
Under the spokes of the clematis.
Is there no great love, only tenderness?
Does the sea

Remember the walker upon it?
Meaning leaks from the molecules.
The chimneys of the city breathe, the window sweats,
The children leap in their cots.
The sun blooms, it is a geranium.

The heart has not stopped.

Well, thish-yer Smiley had rat-tarriers, and chicken *****, and tom- cats, and all of them kind of things, till you couldn't rest, and you couldn't fetch nothing for him to bet on but he'd match you. He ketched a frog one day, and took him home, and said he cal'klated to edercate him; and so he never done nothing for three months but set in his back yard and learn that frog to jump. And you bet you he did learn him, too. He'd give him a little punch behind, and the next minute you'd see that frog whirling in the air like a doughnut see him turn one summerset, or may be a couple, if he got a good start, and come down flat-footed and all right, like a cat. He got him up so in the matter of catching flies, and kept him in practice so constant, that he'd nail a fly every time as far as he could see him. Smiley said all a frog wanted was education, and he could do most any thing and I believe him. Why, I've seen him set Dan'l Webster down here on this floor Dan'l Webster was the name of the frog and sing out, "Flies, Dan'l, flies!" and quicker'n you could wink, he'd spring straight up, and snake a fly off'n the counter there, and flop down on the floor again as solid as a gob of mud, and fall to scratching the side of his head with his hind foot as indifferent as if he hadn't no idea he'd been doin' any more'n any frog might do. You never see a frog so modest and straightforward as he was, for all he was so gifted. And when it come to fair and square jumping on a dead level, he could get over more ground at one straddle than any animal of his breed you ever see. Jumping on a dead level was his strong suit, you understand; and when it come to that, Smiley would ante up money on him as long as he had a red. Smiley was monstrous proud of his frog, and well he might be, for fellers that had traveled and been everywheres, all said he laid over any frog that ever they see.


Mark Twain

At first, it was lies to tell girls
Friday night at the pub
I have this Trust my rich parent's left me, just a million
a year, **** them,
or I just passed the bar, gonna be a lawyer, hey hey , let me buy you a drink.
That is how I studied
storytelling.
I was bested many a times.
This cutie pie stayed wide eyed
near and laughed too loud at all
my jokes and acted helpless
with a cue in her hand, one fateful night.
I should have realized her game was better,
when she jumped the two ball and sunk
the eight, like it was an accident.
It was getting later and the crowd was thinning out
and we played Pac-Man together.
She had this gleam in her eye.
She asked did I want a ride in her 'vette.
My eyes lit up .
Hell's Yes I said, emphatically!
I paid the tab and followed her out to
the barely lit
parking lot, all
the time looking left and right,
wanting to see a Corvette and hoping it was red.
She took my hand led me to this little white Chevette!
I fell instantly
in love.

wander down with gentle rains
along the furrows dug along those
long straight rows out
back

I seep and trickle
flow among each drop
seek the lowest spot
and gather

low with my kin
follow gravity to its
beginning

to the neediest root
the dryest eye
make tears

a pied pipers eye
to cry at the  drop of a
small seed

into the next cloud
to serenade
each fallen hero

making life renew
stop
and look

becoming
moist
I am

just dew
and heaven
mists