The Well

someone thirsty made a well

now still

deep but never filled

far down with rope

the dusty bottom 

rusted pennies

old hope

Wet

influences of heartbeat

wash through slumber

feel lips and tongue slide

use caution that any potential

fluid flows

may provoke awakening wide

best then to get in

a bath of water 

swish 

Pull Of The Future

head spinning 

infinitudes make us

paint dance sing

at the gate

beg mercy on 

clouds of dead wishes

still harping away 

rat in a cage 

linguistic pharmakon 

write now

to grind tomorrow 

out of your system

Riding Eternal Return

unconscious minutes 

time unclaimed living 

gestating some dream

keep you drifting

in the forest there 

the glade the rocks

feet in the cold clear green stream

sunlit to the bottom is brown 

words not spoken will out

bones washing up on shore

phantoms and night voices

the gnashing of teeth 

do we live again as on a loop

the nightmare we can’t awaken from

rotating airport baggage claim 

only unzip the case

true void surrounds you

nowhere gone lost 

oblivion

awaken

Last Year Writing In The Cold Wet North

paper canvas rows these words 

black splatters on a tattered sheet 

filter out the weeds and roots

from gardens where 

little birds eat the new seeds

gold beaks and black feathers 

hours spent drinking old flames

drawing birds with rings and cages

writing poems until the trickle dies

from that overgrown othered land 

of flickering light and inspiration

one more slipping through the door

and then i could sleep 

for ages and ages

After The Flood

trees stood after the flood 

streets lined with black sticks

covered in cotton candy 

sticky sweet complete

with skittering legs 

and sacks of eggs 

they live on god’s grace

bless them all to hell

Indefinite Sisyphean Interregnum

being guilty of no crime i walk free

another locus of infinite nothing

each day rising and falling a round rock

up the hill then back down the hill again

collecting or ejecting encounters

all things here inherently unequal

sometimes searching for authenticity

the whole universe empties inside us

Orange Flavored Storm

that first spring storm still tastes of orange

the cold juice and acidic lightning 

we were not afraid when we were kids

splashing in puddles rain soaking through 

our heavy shirts sticking to our bodies

dunking those popsicles into the sky

When The Rains Came

when the rains came

they brought small suns to the greening grass

when after a time they passed

sunlight lent the leaves its flame

How Each Night I Prepare For War

i just want to be a dad and make art

to write poems and stories and to read

to do these simple things is all i need

but wages wage their beatings on my heart

the day’s committees dictate what i write

and maintenance of monsters that i make

is all the mental labor i can take

until at last beneath a single light

wielding pen or with my anvil easel right

i forge my mental armor long into the night

Spring Leaving

end of spring 

quiet campus

lost in a dream 

of green bloom 

flowering burst

into petaled flame 

luxurious melancholy 

anticipating summer

we walk after rain

warm wet asphalt 

dryer vent air

clumps of cut grass

red sunlight splashing

on shore sand and shells

bony bare driftwood 

cliffs of Dunkirk shale

in the children’s park

arms and hands raised 

breeze swaying trees

laughter and the applause of leaves

Mortal Recoiling

the harrowing turning sun comes home

that place remains broken

even when you are sober

above your shifting skin of sands 

within your damp and sloping depths

the tacit tainted segue to awareness

of the beating blood within you

the rhythmic limits of life 

send you running for safety

in the intensity of darkest night

twin to your fear

Bad Faith My Love

at your foundation lies a vast maze

you say “Am I on trial? What’s next? Torture?

Let me go back home.

There’s no cause for these questions.”

what light shines from your frigid demeanor

while you pretend ignorance

even from your friends there are pages of rumors

seas of accusations and the words that you say

always fold back in on themselves

so it’s not only in love you are unfaithful

they all warned me of the danger

but i didn’t care drawn to

the roses of your mysterious lips breaking 

opening only the smallest aperture

then bursting into a confusion of petals

that wilt before touching my hands

To Escape The Gravitational Influence Of A Primary Body

sold nature for an oblong belonging 

obtuse human alien crouched

huddled fearful back of the mind 

bin where trash culture collects

ripe for the picking

arbitrary constructed beauty standards

preoccupation with collagen lips

grafted skin on a razor thin skeleton

perpetually arriving life of the party

thick cut it with knife tonight the silence 

empty elevators ascending the mountain

into orbital chaos rife with confusion 

space trash forever falling forms a boundary

out beyond the known gridded symmetries

black holes flung out from galactic center

vast vacuum ambient energy

the anxious freedom latent calling

this does not require empty space

familiar pain home fear concepts chains

laws rules restrictions constraints

resource paucity

the question is however the same

how to reach escape velocity

Taking The Night Off

No poem tonight, dear readers. My eyes are closing. Tough week, tough day, time for much needed rest.

Good night.

Be good to each other.

~Bacchus

Longing

attend to returning by

the arduous pull of desire

shining in an instant’s eye

of ardor remembered

its absence thickens in you

with a needed drop of duress

quell this aching and endure

for the journey is lifelong

Life Of Illusions

sick the puzzle 

predicated on future truths

when at present

priorities so easily dissolve

in fictional solvents

backed only by shadows

sunken hopes 

still seem secure

as cellars in a dry season

before skies fall

adding death together

with life’s fruit

the desire of men to fly away

an indulgent mistake

the sweeter richer life

the more acrid death

Last Chances

sing loud and long

this violent autumn language

we blessed few ragged as dogs

alone our tongues would languish 

boast foliage’s suffocation

its blemishes so quaint

the hours of high sun are gone

the souvenirs ancient

if my memory holds

sky will vent its mauve light

the last exhaust as winter

dances down to death

The Introvert Comes Back

a desolate hour in company branches 

entire anxious campaigns of thought

demure dying in a partial whisper

one eye on the forest cabin

one on the mountain monastery

joining a long pilgrimage of mind

someone asks a question

someone laughs open

please excuse me

Against Death

sighing over pages 

from the mire under turned leaves

singing up to whatever god you have

woe is the hour of death 

worse is dying without

verses of hurt turned out

watch for signs 

you can understand 

transcribe and sleep

woe sinks then

see him maddeningly fast

in flight

War Hero

elevated from battle “Callooh! Callay!”

empty-chested rusted tin men come to play

pin the metal on the government ass

you need help and happiness

not celebration

what did they make you

why did you let them

on orders

how many children did you kill

we’re all somebody’s children

Obedience

empty your mind

fill with drink and dine in my home

we will lead you down

grand spirals of good humor

enjoy the desperation

of palatial sin 

what can be done in perdition

but screaming out your loves 

the ultimate and cruelest marriages

provide the ultimate answers

see how in my deserted crown

grows the perfect bloom

presently in the whirlwinds of chaos

we have chosen silence

now your sad eyes

see the darkest truths

despondent hands if armed

will execute even a timid flower

the austere solitude

of dawning day or evening 

all windows open on the same

errant wars of gravity

assent to acquiescence

the mindlessness of the familiar

revive the temperate peaceful tyranny

of silence

At The Threshold Of The Fifth World

sunset gestates over the jubilant waste

cracking its bloody egg on the horizon

it will never learn night’s mad jittering hands

these last altered shimmers

watch hands unseemly needles

tear away beneath those urban altars

delivering the false fruit despair

don’t roam too long among the grieving

wipe clear the failings of self

gain the spirit of these giving quills

and in the hovels seek dark truths 

feverish resting on their haunches

awaiting the coolness of night to emerge

Love and Language

eternally you come with the kindest gazes 

and just as quickly go 

leaving me like a stranger sick with longing

you die and transfigure

as though from rain sternly built 

beams shine dance regenerate

gathering beside me again

restless in faith and overbearing

surest when dying enshrined

confidently natured daring to jump

you hail fear for that unknown endlessness

and undermine its very fabric

Undecidable Half Life

the pain of rose thorns ends in the den-altered tomb

entwined clutched with shining face and hand

that sober beast fallen with lost blooms

whose gagging life flickered even as they stood

cradle to cradle you shine small collision still colliding

and my life these nights a glance

against the bloodiest looks of dying vermin

then closed eyes longing jaded and tired

sit here ragged in dust

with a finger sign your name

plights are light where we room in the loft

then a knock 

and becoming wise to approaching night 

mention our rot but rung by rung get over

finally lying where barren rooves 

stand unbeaten under the stars

Uneven Ground

was it dark in the sight of bedlam

that shriek made stone 

that solid shadow form

shocked into surrender

like turned earth seeded

the kindly gardener ripping out weeds

gold-crowned dandelions

protective persevering nasturtiums

the medicinal mallows

now see how mild the orderly rows

ready again to produce without complaint

cultivated weight on your back

Confidence

passive choices and votive aims

charming masks will eat anything

jauntily facing death in half formed dances

trysts disquieting leers all disguised

but my dear I am calm and clear as the sun

quit fate revere the arbitrary damned

the sourest ecstasy will split in two to share

forever remembered as in Elgin marbles

When We Decided The Fate Of Freedom

tear the sun up stiffly

drag me out to the clearing

into a glistening prehistoric world 

of beer and grain

under the eyes of gabbing seekers

all night i am restless

and night itself is anxious

jumping at the least warning

a wonder at human brilliance

shines from the throng

the possibility of succor for all

dulling at last the fangs of war

when the sting enters the balm

relief sounds like a gong

no holier pain in leaving sings 

winking or walking out or wings

Of Borders and Money or The Absence Thereof

frolic romance

get full lie

all wanderings lead to darkness

metal casket wooden coffin stone sarcophagi

only debt is deathless

that awful entreaty of men

whose lines mark weird geographies 

everywhere staggering

sickening with anger besides

building the ungovernable wind

Damned Nomenclature

we sinned naming everything

and the shreds of day

bent to our calling sight

everything became an island

wild violets withered

beneath infatuated sighs

knaves at last went mute

night a cool drink darkly flavored

and hell blazed overhead

Language In Time

see the kind sternly built writer

in death whose selfsame anger bright

for flocks stolen led blind beneath blankets

full of trite tracts and ransomed dinner

marched as the damned through jagged night

symbols and sounds already arbitrary disbanding

mistaken for incomprehensible signs of nature

the true wish verbosely inscribed within oak

having survived the paperman’s axe another season

unseen and silently echoing rings