Figments

trees sway branches waving in the wind

dendrites firing into a gray matter sky

what tender memories of the world transmit

what thoughts adrift in the airy blood of the atmosphere

the alien consciousness of earth mind 

asleep a billion years

dreaming all of this 

into existence

Practice Room

amazed alone

swimming in the fish bowl

the water is music

closed door and four chords

played on an out of tune piano

rippling my ears the air

light dripping like honey

through the window gold

laying lazy on the floor refracted and warm

in my self-same elemental chaos

there is no need to introduce the order

of social interactions where the cracks

stand out stinging singing solos spot-lit

not this exquisite harmony

of solitude

Untitled 3.29.22

streetlights haloed in

spiderweb scratches pinwheel spinning

cotton candy backlit on a stick

hot chocolate and mint on her breath

still hot and sweet on her lips 

before i pull away

because i am dragging this cauldron of ashes 

from things i have touched

through every evening’s streets

loves confidences bridges

i know i don’t deserve 

the little love i have left i treasure

i know i know

it takes no convincing

before the loss pierces my once impenetrable hide

before a final acceptance

of the various densities of age

projecting my mind high into the air

wings of a dragon on the night wind

to the ledge above the secluded green overgrown grotto

where the meager trove of my worth remains hidden

Sketchbook XI

 

Just waking up - Portrait - mixed media watercolor, colored pencils, and ink

Mariana Mind

bearing the burdensome weight

down in measureless depths dark blue

hiding beneath seas seeming eons alone

shadows pass and fade saying stay

but shame always lays along the densest bone

another night-long day is nothing new

sundown seeking a littoral cave seal the gate

sheltered seaweed wreathed and safe here away

Falling Star

when those who gave you freedom 

are those who bring you shame

remember the falling star is a meteorite

just a rock assigned too much meaning

burning up to nothing in the atmosphere

Oath

as dying lilacs lay darkly in their leaves

and lowly lilies listless lovers wilting

tiny suns shine spreading across lawns

that yellow light yawning closes at night

petals like feathers and seeds that take flight

wild weeds even lovelier to children’s eyes

i solemnly swear i will never turn 

soil sour against a dandelion

Man O' War

i long for the lost confidence in confidences

between friends who felt closer than kin

for the playful confessional openness

self-assured unselfishness and unselfconsciousness

as a single organism never in conformity

never in uncertainty formed the question of belonging

along with no need to belong

for one wounded was still many hands strong

man o’ war

but we made for a poor siphonophore

age and wave-lashed dismembered 

pulled thrashing parting on diverging currents

until the loneliness of time’s hollow din

remembers us aglow again

if only in spirit

No Man Is

street light burnt never felt so good

illuminated white almost like the sun once glowed

an island of white in wet blue night

a sodden newspaper slaps applause

from the rushing black river of the road

awaken dimmed amber sodium vapor light

park bench still damp leaf smell on the wind

sit and listen to the chattered whispers

the dried husks of the fallen dead drying

a red sun waits over the bleached bones

cracked earth sunken in furrows surround the cradle

rising as an island in a sea of dust

Youth

on a clear river beneath the willows

like leaves we float at ease

there is no demand but that the sun will set

and then we will run the darkening streets

in the end you would sprint ahead 

as was always your way

i increased my pace only a little

and embraced the sweet weariness and burning breath

it felt like a green and golden lifetime

the laughter longing and melancholy conversations

but the waiting dream of time was too stark

and we all fell asleep

Basic Needs

nests of needles coats of quills

venomous vittles vinegar wine

acid aerosol atmosphere

charity rarity mine mine mine

Projected

Io and Europa sail their currents
before Jupiter's enormous eye
and i am again reminded
of the tiny alien life
    we on this pale, blue dot

Dying Wight Winter

when the world opens unfolding flowering

as a droplet from red rust in a glass of water

warm spring air teases mist off snow mounds

whose melt bears oily rainbows

in the waste-water

Consequences of Hatred

where do you think this wrath will propel you

already wreathed and weighted 

in fruits of ignoble pursuits

orphaned in betrayal

submerged in mistrust

with no will or want of a lifeline

awaiting the opportune time 

for enmity’s dagger twist and thrust

to wound and down

though there you drown

Little Gusts

born alone of thought

borne along on thought alone

the child like a vessel for demands

purpose served discarded

wind-blown wastrel hemmed by fences

of unearned loyalty

listen

that soft shifting rattle and high sad crackle

like a plastic bag pasted by breeze to the chain link

small voice wanting to be heard

taught it is inconsequential

convinced of its purposelessness

does not want to be set free

but held and cherished

listen love

invest the quiet ramblings with value

with patience and willing ears

the best gusts

are little and persistent

and require devoted attention

The Lingering Scents Of Remembered Hope

embedded with no empathy

entrenched with no egress

i could pretend i’m not invested

divest myself of the mess

and lessen the desperation

all for the red coal bed of cold despair

but i remember spring nights

and the dryer vents pushing perfume

into the excited intoxicated night air

the ripe grapes in the fall flavoring the mist

the lilac and the tiger lily

the cucumber gin and tonic

wooded vanilla wined whiskey

the slick wet strawberry kissed

and there is still something there

smell of her shampoo in clean wet hair

the still wet arms enfolding

the water droplets glistening 

and falling from her rose-tipped breasts

to my tight excited chest

lying in the warm darkness breathing

at last the rest is rest

intermittent calm and dribbles of sympathetic commiseration

many moons of coffee spoons perhaps

a measured stable messiness is best

Nets

unconsciously woven of words long before birth

made to catch and wrap the infant

to sink into the skin with age

glistening gossamer threads to structure the skeleton

to form frameworks for perceptual reference

and reinforced with gradual understanding

in this way we genetically modify our young

what does it mean to be

genuine authentic

when consciousness is a cobwebbed box of borrowed books

civilization a system for consistency

culturally inbred brined and bullied

i often think of the fish in the joke

wondering “What the hell is water?”

at university i studied underwater basket unweaving

i find myself perpetually pulling loose strings

then wrapping myself so tightly in meshes

eventually i’m back outside

entangled

Conflict II

nothing in the cupboard
gray as mist
a fortnight starving in rubble
one man's bruised ego

Cages

there is a slick bloody demon

muffled and muzzled 

bound and lunging on a black chain

to a stuck muck drain 

in a chamber of my oubliette heart

sometimes if too often prodded

sweat slickened muscles bulging 

it slips free and revels in rages

ripping through restraints

gnashing teeth and shredding claws

lashing links as the leash 

is made weapon

the drain backs up 

all bubbling ichor and hot copper smell

the heart becomes a fuming Gehinnom

with stoked ire roaring in my chest

eyes welling and jaw clenched

I scream and flail as if possessed

and I want to bloody my fists bashing

all the walls of my cage

then in shame it subsides

placated the demon sleeps and is again tied

but never dies

Out Of Joint

while i was away i got pushed around

bent out of shape

fragmented

now i’m back home and everything’s refracted

my same old clothes seem cut wrong

seams in 

strange places

others’ expectations awkward and restrictive

choices being offered are too few

i’m stumbling over boundaries blindly pushing past limits snapping strings

and there is no time to decide

between forcing it and faking it

or breaking it

taking consequences as they come

one way is safe 

one way is good

both are wrong

so i wait shaking on this threshold

birthing a world in a doorway

taking on the resulting messes

watching for the form that

coalesces

Transmission

there is porous organization in custom built biomes

reinforcing the changes of the long-awaited art

fever pitch resting in the pitcher’s reservoir

reach out and pour we are all just visiting

corporeal forms integrated into the fine fabric of being

the wet works begin in the skin of the thin men

the burnished heart of quietude will blind the willfully deaf

you are not alone in this chamber begotten one

forge your destiny against the hot rocks of savage deserts

wander in the land with seeds and plant your homes

the fruit that is borne from wasteland to wasteland

makes tomorrow’s richness honey from the hive

there was time before you and time still before you

stretching out like floodwaters from a broken dam

that which was forgotten is remembered in the cells

passed down expressed and blooming in her children

Narrow Is The Way

narrow is the way

world weary wanderers

with only a candle to carry

go forth and forge your armor

for even through the finest furrow

by the smallest chosen individual channel

you go not alone

and are beset with wonders

and horrors and boredom

the worst and best and blandest

assailed on all sides

be not delayed nor detained

rest awaits you by and by

Nothing To Say

i feel like i owe this but tonight i have nothing to give

questioning what i know and the lies that allow me to live

and if truth is a thing of this world like that dead French guy said

then why am i jumping at shadows and ghosts in my head

the dark hides no secrets that the light doesn’t equally blind

there are really no opposites that as a child used to fill up my mind

there are no opposing forces just forces

cowboys were working men who rode horses

knights were servants not heroes

numbers grow as they gather more zeroes

Sublimation Water Lilies

the shadow self to the green and even 

saucer floating placid

agitated underside fleshy ridged 

enraged purple red

allows liberties with 

his anger more often

lets it flower exploding open 

above the surface

spike petals screaming 

pointed in pink-faced fury

righteous fire placed blazing center 

at last almost gleeful spreading free

then as suddenly

doused and dolorous 

in the growing reservoir

of shame

Rest

lying on thick green carpet eye level

filaments of light in a sunlit starfield

above dust motes substantiating 

swirling yellow beams alive

prop up the windows and walls

eyelid red screens of blood vessels pulse

dozing warm and mellow living room

on a summer late afternoon

parents out television and radio silence

the child alone sleeps his unregimented relief

Thrice Denied

my mother told me praying 

wouldn’t help

on the twenty-fifth mile of the marathon

she handed me a cup of water

and said i couldn’t make it

before i left for college she said

you used to smile all the time

why are you so unhappy

today she wondered aloud to no one

why my brothers don’t come around

she said her sister and her friends

used to help her but now

they say they can’t make it

when i mentioned she can seem ungrateful

or negative toward her caregivers

she asked when

i told her things she said to me

and she said

i never said no such things

Spirit Writing

staring at

the only ghosts in this house

scratch marks scoring 

the painted-over electrical outlets

tell the story 

of my elderly dad

in the last years of his life

exiled to 

his own bedroom

on the other side 

of the house

hands shaking

failing sight

often drunk

trying to connect

the plug for his phone 

Talking To Myself

This isn’t shit or This ain’t shit

either way i’m right

depending how i’m feeling

on any given day

these words ordered as they are

blemishes or beauty marks on the blank page

either i find shelter in the shade of the poets i love

or i am beneath them

sitting in their shadows

for now, it’s impossible to feel i have form

and cast out

one of my own

History's Chorus

obituary pages pasted on pavements

with coronary cornstarch red femoral food coloring

white and black and bloody fingerprints all over

thought safe at a distance

in a hospital hallway father lost and leaning

over white sheeted son keening

sixteen years from womb to war

soccer field to stretcher

but music reaches seeking ears

the long conjoined wailing wind

of human history 

sings only of its end

Knot

marriage ties

the slip of the noose

and shoelaces

corded keeper of histories

tightly wound 

uncomfortably bound

stomach all tied up in

the lump in your throat

tongue tied

sometimes sacred

Isis had one

but so can a dog’s dick 

check the wood

or do the math, ends joined irrevocably

as a rope to a boat

or its speed in the water

difficult 

even unsolvable

or solved with violence 

like Alexander

but let’s not

March

the light has lifted at last

with a whistling significant effervescence

glint dropping rising up from grass blade sheen

reflections

songs of longing splash and spill and flow from

passing car blasting low

bass exploding spring beats

crashing rattling windows

screaming

but what’s that falling from the sky

Apollonia

there once was a spirit but in another age

caught between a lithesome body of untamed wilderness from our birth

and Apollonian intellect born of biochemical curiosity

sharing space and breath with me upon the uncertain earth

the rippling air around her frame

convulsed with compressed sound expressed as light

and the gossamer aura between her fingers

sheathed mine as we breathed in the Dionysian night

what extinguished the flame was my wandering lust

and her need to trace vectors through my scalar form

she lit the dawn with tirades and furious gusts

quantifying the skies with calculus eyes unceasingly chariot borne