on the floor you dropped
your dress inked up your quill
to write of love but still...

out of your words stopped
on the empty paper still
leaves your breast unfilled...

put on essences perfume
brush your red hair beautiful
cast your eyes to the mirror...

drop the pen quiet the muse
open your window,
hear the star kissed sky

behold the dark side
of the valley the trees swaying to
this insanity kiss the wind entering

blooms of daffodils petunias roses red
as autumn days shrink shorter
closing in the cold
like the pantaloons
fell to the floor in June
hot passion wafted to the ten-foot ceilings
fan slowly spinning
blades knifing air cutting sexes
scent making it incense
as we drifted into
fall
fell apart like orange red leaves
blown to the
distants
everywhere
spread
showed displayed
for an instant
glory
and then...

the moon sunk below the waves of threatening
grey clouds
the stars were swallowed by the
creatures
the closet became alive
with sounds
the horizon called me
forward, come
let me make your
nightmares come alive
under bed became foreboding
scratching on a window pane
forlornly called up
clawed demons
obscure messages
seemed
to make me theirs
thoughts of people I
had lost
tormented
and then
one little kitten
meowed
and called me back

rusted and grew beards, and sorrowful eyes even smiling
looked cold bejeweled with crusty ornaments
from christmases past they sat on their porches
almost like statues as the new days dawned and those
with energy left rushed so fast by

to New Year's eve and dancing left in their knees
a smile on their young smiling faces
a spring in their step , born yesterday
and young and carefree
all the day and night in front of them

counting the boards on the porch got
old ten years ago, but as I wish for things to appear
I think it may come about by
ten boards counted
instead of eleven

shivered on the side of I-75 in the middle of nowhere
awaiting anything or anyone to listen
to our suffering, to warm our souls.

For, we had taken the road less travelled, and grew ourselves
an outside tough, we listened only to ancient words and hummed
and never gave a sip of life that had not been written down by an ancient
genius,
nor ever looked up to see besides the imagining
we lived.
And met you, I did, while reading, EE Cummings
you  had Emerson open.

I say to sweet Missy  as
ten pups fight for eight *******
but I will be your love forever
and all your pups I will
forever
love like they were mine
you **** *****. LOL

sabbath yesterday
the candles dim
and the choir boys
go on practicing
alone
like pews in the back of
the vast
spectacles
of  colored glass
windows with angels in their eyes
innocence
the man the one
pinned with the white crest at his throat
like
Christs' magnanimous suffering spoke
ten Hail Marys
and they awoke
and the angels cried
again

A very tender notion
the forest
On my feet
All the little things
My eyes have
Never
Seen
The smell of pine
Prurient
The mottled sun spots
Keen
On all my
Earthly senses
Most of all
My fears

even with misspeelings and quotational **** ups and missed
opportunities like our hearts are on fire
and burning with the spirit of Byron
or Browning, we write and I want to bow to all you ,
who like me have something to say,
whether you are reincarnated Bard,
or a hard working slob, like me,
at the end of the day,
if someone sees and relates that is all it means.
I would enjoy being Whitman,
but then, that would mean I was dead.
I am not Chilean, so I could not be Neruda.
I am not female but Sylvia relates to me.
And so, we write, on and on.
It may be a gift or a sickness.
We just have to.
I take a lack of talent
and make it useful.
It is to me.

You sit in your covey all
Conforming to its boxy confines
Every corner filled to its limit
With fleshy retreats
The box constraining your minute
The corners defining your
Face your shoulders
Your thighs pressed to your cheeks in grimace the cardboard
Outlining your
Territory you've yet to explore
The whole thing.
And wonder about the things
Yet you may find when
You explode
From the constraints
What size may you become
What shape other than
Square. What space
You will find
When someday you come to find
The box was all in your mind
And the limits all fake
And self-imposed.

amid ten thousand million
wriggling parasites
I found you
and you calmed me
like the seaside roar
or a valley view a vista seen
amid ten thousand million
views of casualities
you appeared
and  tamed me
like a waterfall
or a tall mountain viewed pristeen
amid ten thousand million
views of casualties
you walked up
and made me
like a roaring lion
on the seashore on the crest of
a tall mountain
the man I was meant to be
and you

in a certain way to be special and I deserve
as  much as anybody,
much like the  hearts I save
in my memory

all of them have meant so much
and caused me to
be who I am,
I guess.

I cannot begin to mention   her
and her and her
who held me while
I sobbed

one time I got weak and
despairing and
thought how life
was so hard

until her and her and her
showed me
there are people
who care

I have a higher shelf a pinacle that
seems empty , barren,
one made of mahogany over the ones
holding copies of Shelley, now unbound,
stocked with mementos and keepsakes
made of pine but servicable
upholding my precious things
carefully sturdy ,
to the left , a tad dusty, leaning on the
copy of Michelangelo's David bookend,
is  "In Search of Lost Time" gathering,
well, dust , now,
next to, with my fingerprints
outlining the title ,
on a timeworn cover, leans,
"Tom Sawyer" ; I can see a cane pole
figuratively jutting out from
the shelf. Above on the second shelf from the top
sits a rock, just a plain river worn smooth
everyday rock, that to anyone else would be
nothing, but, to me it is more precious than gold of the same size.
I collect special things.
And the top mahogany shelf
is empty
reserved for only vivid
memories
of
Grandma  
of that girl long ago
of when my children arrived on this earth
of a smile
from all the women I have known
also, although, invisible
only worthy for that shiny shelf are the hearts and souls
of the best people ever.
And when you visit, think again, about an
ordinary smooth rock,
and an empty mahogany
shelf.
A rock or an empty shelf
can be more
than it seems.

As sitting on its side i see
a highway
silent now, empty
that once bore so much industry,
now modified by
free enterprise,
that of course lacks memory
of any past, of
trekkers who have lived-
buried dreams on this path-
lonely now
black asphalt
going nowhere
receiving no remorse.

and then
the crowds disperse
the lighters quit flickering
the echoes in your ears die down
Steely Dan goes off stage left
and **** you forgot
Rikki's number
light another one up
sit in that seat
for an encore
rest your tapping feet

before my birth in the eons of time
seasons pre-destiny
determined in secrets
of masses explosions
with the law of physics knowing
what was written
light years ago
in a church
of atoms of quarks and neutrinos
un-comprehensible masses
with polarity making me
seem extraneous.

gets used to trying to nurse a barstool
that' s what we do in these parts
and chaw 'baccy and spit let loose
epitaphs and curse a bit
down here 'round Clayhatchee.

Yet most of us gooden's ya' may say
'cept 'n Joe Bob and his two brothers
both named Billy. ' course Mary Jane
her problem an' all,  see , wasn't her fault, really

she got turned out young and had to make the
groceries, when she was thirteen. Now, we laugh, but
don't really, well a little, when Ole' Ethel , the snaggle toothed
hag says she , Mary Jane , has a mattress strapped to her back.

It's right tough near 'bouts year round here, and
we laugh when we can . No bad spirits we wish any
ole' soul, least wise Mary Jane.

'cause what trouble and shenanigans
would Joe Bob and his two brothers cause
if Mary Jane weren't 'round?

what closes my eyes
opens them too
thoughts which bare their souls
in my brain
of you, the curling kitten
in the window
moist petals discovered at daybreak
of a clover just emerged,
the ten millions of suns
over the hill
I have strained to view
daily,
her lovely
whatever I fall asleep to
dreaming
I awake to a new thing
to fascinate the
corneas
make a  new plight of
a new discovery
eyes open or
closed
makes
no difference

if,
could I love
          you more,
were possible....
would gravity survive?

or may the
earth dissolve, break into pieces,
in tremors
of a love so deep?

Or, may heaven part, angels sing so loud in
honors, god give a new Eden,
to us?

where the shock of sudden
and the calm of a breeze mist
meet

right there
under a willow tree

her skirt floating
long petals narrow
hide my peace and protect

hiding my face as I peer
into life's mysteriousness
a new Bambi like

human being refreshed
shorn of the hair of
self-moderation

no bangs hiding my eyes no mist
no greys or half sighs
taking fully

in sight the grace of a
day a slight
re-borning

rejuvenation
samsara
reincarnation

just new and cleansed
and her scent
the willow tree's privacy

making a new man
a new  me

does the prettiest flower light a horizon
prettier than her?
Can any martingale sing a melody
with her perfection?
Heaven is on the horizon,
a glow of earthly crimson,
An orchard of apple trees,
set on a hill
in dimming backlight.
Blossoms glow from her limbs.
Seasons work magic,
Calm is all a glow,
distance is relative,
when seeing life
renewed.
Life is a circle,
of red glimmers
and yellow hues.

and efflorescence can write a poem by herself
tang and beer and swallows singing
songs outside your window
can
too
it makes no difference the words she sings
bang and hollow they may seem
when the rhythm sings and things
come
along
like they were  meant to be in all
time like hymns things sent from heaven

seems I am leaving when I am coming
dying , almost
a discovery
of heaven and earth
the sands of the coast the rocks high up
various places in my mind are predertemined to
make
memories and forecast the next
great moment
urges speak
in parables
***** lurch
as a sheep jumping the fence
I get sleepy then
a cigarette is needed
a hug and kiss
a night together

wander-fairers gloat  in seeming  calmness
about the depths of the seas they've  traversed
tropical palms thus plucked
on Wayfaring waves a  day
in the past
Storms fierce they gallantly
heroically faced taut strong
unending

The Eartheners pout in earnest
of the soil taken and
the mineral reserves being stolen
of gold reserves and conspiracies
while painters talk about ivory
and elephants with
abstract art all the critics rave
how that touched them

The Realists resolve to see
each sunrise sunset as
a Godspeed to destiny
an earthly climatic episode in
a timeline of finality
seeing doom ahead.

I like to take a breath.
Have a banana split.
If that's not available
maybe some cornbread in sweet
cream possibly a strawberry
in season.

Taste a smile. Throw a compliment.
Maybe careless how I do it at times.
But bask in the comedy
of errors and randomness.
Seek an ism in the growth of my own
sadism, a ick in my
lack of understanding. And just be peaceful.
Lie down.

The annals of Peter Pertuity
so dense complex with impunity one
headed unempathetic saying
how WE feel
and what WE need. One
eyed
blind
genetically disposed
a natural propensity
kindly, we say,
exposing us and you to
raincoats on corners and ladies we think get a
thrill.

is being human, in all our weaknesses,
virtuous a sea
noble a tulip
all dutiful
a ****
frugal a tree
all truthful to their
self and beautiful
I have seen bums be virtuous
the poor generous
the ignorant wise
a seed grow taller than
his father and mother
moldy bread be a miracle
a working girl be a lady
a dog love his master
virtue is in
the eye of
the beholder

content to just live
on the porch with four legged company
cars racing by to what I wonder as
I sip my first beer of the day and Missy
panting sticks her head in my hand
wanting touch and enjoying the sun's last rays of a calm good day
Daisy Mae and Luke Duke
are more energetic
youthful
they want to dance
Missy and I just want a peaceful evening
growing grayer
touching a bit
a bit of brew and water
the trees and the birds bedding
all of nature making their night beds preparing
watching us watching it watching them
as if we had their energy
reminiscing
an old dog is good company

It's a good day drawn on
The sunny canvas a bit
Fluffy cloud meandering
Away where cotton ball
Clouds go on a calm day
When the rain gods and thunder
Goddesses go off to
Fort Lauderdale
Or Tahiti to occasion the tropics
With storms but
Here was pleasantly warm
Enjoyable
No one needed antiperspirants
Or sweaters
And it got painted by Monet
This day did
A hundred times
All differently
A slight change of
The suns angles
The differences
In the shadows laying left or right

And how brightly stark
The sun shone early
Changed midday to
Blindingly overhead
Then reached to the edge
Of your right eye
Evening a long cast
A glimmer almost gone

Like days past.
Memories of childhood
Youth all once again.

The sun has shone
Me things
Shined for millions ages anon
Be it my
Everglow now.
Now I take her to heart.

I think my eyes are just dry
but it happens more
when I reread your letter
of goodbye
or sit on the stoop
and the best sunset ever dies
over the distant hills
or see Breakfast at Tiffany's
for the umpteenth time
my eyes got real
dry the other day
when my sweet little kitty
I saw her born
saved her from drowning in a
mop bucket
brought her in after she  was mauled by a dog
gave birth and took to it
like it was not the first time
instinct is a *****
and someday
gonna find the gene
that makes me cry
like a *****
and turn it off

and I once found in a meadow filled with flowers
daffodils violets small and sunflowers a
ratio
of small tall and upright
much as the golden ratio
divided just right in the faces of sunlight
and shade and dark and bright and yellows
happy and reds passionate
and a blue occasional
and an orange to **** the view

gathering in the usual way my tools
hammer and chisel
cordless screwdriver in my jeans'
another day begins
fashioning smooth words
right angled articles
taut windows clear
roofs of gold
and miracles
the radio of a working man plays
one ear to rock and rolling thunder
in another

New Year's Day and I hope for you a great one.
Mine, was not the beginning I envisioned. My adopted Mom, Marge
I rushed to the hospital at twelve.
She looks like me at 6 am after my binges. Red eyed and a little smile
of I don't care anymore on her 72 year old tired face.
I got back home, not drunk enough,
and found tiny, a sweet little black kitten who strived through thinness and
stumbled around for the 10 weeks of her life, cold and still.
She still lays there.
I guess her suffering has ended.
I am still drinking down the courage and liquor to go dig the hole in the backyard. I will cry, and need the strength I find in a bottle to prepare.

My adopted pops, 82 year old cad who took people all his life, took me into his heart. He is not a red man's father except by heart and caring. He is looking so old and tired. He took me to see Marge in the ICU. And consoled me as a priest would with wisened words of time and need.

If this New Year's day is a sign of what 2015 will be like,
after three more drinks, I think,
I will go out back and dig a  hole big enough for me to crawl into and hide, until next year.

lauren elise  Normally I wouldn't instigate like this, but NFL players aren't simply taking a knee for the fun of it. If you want to go as far back as Normandy, let's talk about the forced migration of slaves to the United States, the colonialist division of African nations, and the pillaging and ****** that accompanied that. Let's talk about the forced separation of black families as they were sold off like livestock, the rapes of slave women, the beatings of slave men. Let's talk about the implemented indentured servitude after slavery was abolished, that kept free black people enslaved and poor because they had no resources, no money and no dignity. The lynchings and the discrimination. Let's talk about the de jure segregation that divided school districts, neighborhoods, and deprived people of color of access to equal education and job opportunities. How about the exclusion of black women from women's rights movements? They did not receive the same rights at the same time as white women. When segregation was abolished, how about the de facto segregation, the redlining, the defunding of black neighborhoods that sentenced them to poverty and disqualified them this American notion of "equal opportunity?" What about when the poverty and lack of education increased the crime and drug activity that has led to the mass criminalization of black communities? The school to prison pipeline? Think about the fact that people of color have not been legally "equal" to white people for even 100 years. The police brutality today mirrors the police brutality of the Civil Rights era. Everything that black people face on this day is a result of the dehumanization and discrimination that white people imposed on them from the start. This is not coincidental protest. This is not ungrateful. Our soldiers have fought for our rights from the start, but not always for the rights of people of color. Peaceful protest is an American right. Plus, let's not talk about disrespect for American soldiers and veterans when our very own "President" is the first person to disrespect them.

2nd nation argument now,
Just another diplomatic
Implement
A plow
A war pig, a
Instrument
A follower a troop
A soldier
How
Can I look my dear mother.
At dinner
How
Can i make
A toast to
Roast my indifference
Now
And were I but
A sorrow
Show my face
To daddy
How?
I've bit the piece took
In  my jowls
The leg the thigh the
Big piece
Now
Oh, and I convey
My reminders
My dismay
At being
Reminisce
My way
Still
Another day

dollars don't blush
around this time of night
rhymes don't work at twelve
midnight
science is all street
and biology and urges talk
the arithmetic is quaint and simple
twenty here for that
adds up to
another hit
I been taking notes
except in English
class

float like a butterfly
sting Heaven like a bee
Muhammad!

of picking cotton almost
or fruit from trees
you ***** a finger
bruise a knee
the children now
so brought up
without need
think a lack
of wireless is the end of the world
but
I see young men
strong going to war for our country
like my generation
and those before me did
so I hold out hope
that not all this new
generation is blind
and all about greed
some
are
truly like my and mine before
see
beyond this horizon

if you hoovered the world out
of people and only the good hearts
were left along the baseboards

the sun shined only on good hearted
ones, the rain cleansed the soil,
of all their detritus

the rainbow's end would alight
on you and prove you are golden
days would be parties

then the stars would get in alignment
shooting comets for you
only, as signs

that you are a good heart
and that the world needs more
just like you!

dreamed I was dreaming
of being in a dream,
Pinch me three times please

can a man rationalize reality
from superstition,
any more than a scientist
can draw conclusions from one
test?
Can a philosopher from his
neurons figure all others reason?
Is a chemist simply
an arranger of complex molecules?

Can a preacher from
the propositions of one faith
accurately portray this phenomena?

Can a  poet leap above and through many realms
many hoops many disciples
and tell it just as real?

Can a songwriter write
a grand piano?

Can be sat upon a pedestal
make him a marble
date his birth
marriage, if so,
children sired, mom and dads,
slab of marble, it takes
a chisel, a backhoe, however
many mourners, a white or black  hearse
a viewing. Manyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy, dollars,
untallied flowers, all so gayyyyyyyyy.
I want to have mine todayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.
Then die,
20 years nigh,
and
become anonymous.

all odor
my couch the dogs splay
their wares and the kittens crouch
and spray

I sit on a wood bench
away away
away I stay
loving their
disobedience

I gave my home to them
and they are taking over
and truly real
I wouldn't have it
any other way

what's an apostrophe
but a high comma,
a dash- might be
equal missing  a part.
A :) can be a smile
so anything is possible
in good old
USA

according to pure reason  
to be elected to Senator or President
one must have at least eight
****** predator allegations against them.
I'm running for Senator one day when
it takes good morals and a dream to make America great again.
I will mean it. Not just act like an *** on a bus and get elected anyways.

round plentiful satisfyingly rotund
Peggy was almost two at once
she didn't intend that
just happened
a hormone thing
she was pleasing and still a world of big beautiful
and happy acting
she had hair like Rapunzel flowing like a golden river
down her back mountainside
to her log like legs
and when she hugged you
it was like a polar bear
so warm
she had spares
spare love to give , was grateful
innocent
as a dove
experienced as a *****
made me almost fall deep into love
I am glad
I wore a parachute

taffylike I sat melting
in my blue jeans
as she took my hand
and we gulped
the last sips of our Black Jack
and chugged the dregs of our tall Buds
I was already there

We ended up on the beach
running barefooted
nothing but endlesses seemed to wave on the dark seas
as our breath ran out fell
together
like two seagulls
on a crust of bread

a part of me is still there
now
and the stars flicker and waves crash
again
when I am alone
not ever dimmed
by time
or her leaving

hazelwood briars brown the forlorn
fallen limbs on the ground the next step watched
for slithery snakes amongst the dappled
sun contrasts and deep shadows
make great
camouflage make great hiding places
makes the mind seek
the mowed lawn manicured
barefoot I spend time like
my ancestors
naked roaming
the deepest wildest places
in nothing but shivers
and teasing the insides my recesses
into seeking out the forbidden
shallow ponds soft silty bottom
the rivers banks
a tall oak on the side of the hills
majesty
the elm on the lee side of that hill hidden from
eyes and so peculiarly begging,
calling me
seducing
swaying in the sunlit portions of all of
the fronds edges the mosses
the mushrooms sprouting
a soft bird shrill
a move is a whistle
the loneliness a thrill
the caution in the breeze
a passing will

never saw that problem the dry
river's bed
most always had an overflow
into the forest's toes
of  water gushing overflowing
the river's banks
washing the salt off the roots of a
water mocassin ten feet from the bank
hissing
trees roots her trunk wetter
'n they ever have been to pull
her long tresses up
around her *** walk tippity toed through once dry banks
caught the fervor
began
to sashay a bit
dance her  top limbs swaying left
as her trunk had gone right like a whip

root tiptoeing off to the high spot on the hill all the rest the feeling trees had gathered
crying more rain filling valleys
feeling lost for those root bound who couldn't feel
the first drip of empathy dense when it came to sympathy
and you'd think natural selection might take her part in this
and wipe those who don't feel off but I think
they is this Noah dude for the  uncaring he builds a big *** canoe
and herds up one of each *** of the uncaring two them
narcissists a male female those psycopaths one each of breeding ages
one pair each of all the woes
and floats down the river into the swollen *** sea so
they live too,
those whose brains are not capable
of feel of poetry of art.
those are on the ark.
those who have apathy of a dry eye

sans regret full of hope
then sleep reigns peaceful and deep
I close eyes thinking of
those things we as a human
might dream of
be it real
be it sane
be it but
a dream.
For without
our imagination our
seeing things
that are not
and positing our faith
above our reasoning
life would dully be
a hell on here ,
I get not all of our dreams
come true, so far
very few, but,
I take the optimists  
view,
that without
dreaming
life would be useless,
so I close my eyes
with a fair thought of someone
I hope to know,
and one of the lady
that glows always
when my eyes are closed ,
my lady dream imaginative beautiful
like sunsets and
the best stars glow.

Apple, peach
doesn't matter
as long as whipped cream
splatters,
I dream of.

A slice, spread
on the beach of
passions paramount
matters.
I dream of.

Candles lit
flickering of
rewritten eyes see.
I dream of.

pleasant, can
you dream with me?
now that you see.
Dream with me.