Yellow Bird

arising from sleep
a putrid taste lifts me up
choking in my path
at last I am still breathing
stomach in a knot
insecurity has me shaking
for I too
am like a yellow bird
in the mouth of a ginger cat

Dear October

relieve me of this darn heat
this late Indian summer
for the rice is so long
un-shucked and unshaken
on the walk we have taken
the one where wooden planks wind
along Virginia wetlands
relieve the cats
for they are still clawing
at the last flea's hatch
feasting on their fur
early pumpkins are melting
sitting plump on the porch
their carved out smiles sag
reminding me of grandmother's pout
on her hospital bed
left side half dead
wipe her brow now
with the coolness of an autumn sunset

Oasis

soft ribbons quilted below
delightfully mingling
with the scent of a new universe
I am smiling
at the tea stained walls
embracing a gesture
that calms my nerves
playing along my skin
you are deep within
rocking a beautiful mind
with precious sensuality
holding my hands
stroking an internal existence
that still cries beyond
a substratum of yesterday's fields
drying today's tears

August

bathing in the moon lit evening
the scent of fresh cut grass
lingers among Levi's paw steps
the fire I watched you make
lights up tree lined skies
keeping mosquitoes at bay
yet they still nip my skin
gnawing at the stars
reflected deep within
awakening singular cells
structured and strung
among lines of laughter
your beauty and kindness
echos throughout
a warm August night

Underworld

I could live in the underworld
beneath the sound of human pain
below all the turmoil
the cave covered mud
scratches my war torn back
thick with black
it is here where I speak to you
underneath the deep blue ocean
in one divine swept motion
we ebb and flow
as the weight of the universe
sits heavy upon our heads
empty and dead
I feed off of you
you fill my lungs once more

Breeze

rustling I shall follow
the howling wind's sorrow
feel my skin's upheaval
synchronize with flowing voice
passing through the sulking breeze
I am forgotten

40 Years

you come and go so quickly
as if the wind picked you up
in one sad moment
blew you across the snow covered ground
there is no mountain
no ocean
only this land locked field of past endeavor
it stirs me so

Journey

climbed out of my sunken mattress
stacked upon pewter slats
into sentences of dark obsession
blue eyes I cannot see
a deep distaste for life I cannot grasp
felt from head to toe
invading deepest thoughts
crawling down the back of my head

Starstuff

I'd swallow the whole universe
without digesting the stars
I'd carry them in my arms
a great bouquet of light
against a cosmos of nothing

Time

I watch the clock
calculate the difference
ticking through my emotions
knowing the moon has risen
in some other place
at the same time

Rose

I peel the petals of subconsciousness
uncovering a subtle, sad voice
my hands tucked deep within a mind
hoping to unlock another layer of mankind
buried in the suffering of you.

Satori

I am becoming alive again
burning in sudden illumination
a kick in the eye so to speak
just like Kerouac
only I'm not in Paris anymore
I am sitting on the cat torn couch

꽃 Flowers Bloomster Fleurs 花 Virágok Blumen الزهور Kvetiny Kukkanen

I find the flowers

the place where I belong 

I arose out of the depths of nothing 

a mere seed with desire

sprouting up out of a gray void

I am the petal that licks the bees

I am the stigma that climbs the trees

floating on a stem

Fool

I am a fool of flowers

a fool of blood

and a fool of love

mingling with men

stroking egos half smiling

inside I am crying.

Stars

my index finger tip has become numb to the keystrokes

similar to the numbness that climbs down the back of my head

when days are long and nerves are dead

the joy I feel from this tickling sensation

is enhanced by dance whispering the words I hear upon my ear

"counting stars"

why yes, I am counting too

I've counted Leonids for as long as I can remember
laying on a pier in mid November
and the Quandranids, they are something on a cold winter's day

lying down with outstretched arms
dreaming of parallel moons and stars

Kiss

inside your kiss

I taste the comfort of us

revealed in a coffee cup

freshly brewed by your hands

warming my heart

with all the heat of this world

Particles of Me

a black and white image taken long ago, haunts me so
segments can still be collected and followed in a cloud
yet I release it into an oblivious sea
where lost traces of me can be found at the bottom
drowning sentiments time and time again

there you will find the objects of my past
a heart shaped ring befitted for a tiny being
ribbons of blue tied in delicate bows
a marbled journal with a lock in tow

their fragments no longer float
yet I continually sail in my white painted boat
throwing the pieces over board
watching them fade away where the fish nibble
tearing at the false particles of me

Cells

barefooted little dreams walk the cement streets
burning their feet upon the open playground
toes warn and black kick half inflated balls
I frolic with them, climbing into liberation
the soles of my own feet warm on the concrete

reminding me of a time not so long ago
where I am also free, isolated in my jungle gym
sun still fresh upon the horizon
it was there we played, I was captured by a knave
playing nazi's and jews, we were so advanced
sending one another to pretend concentration camps

I can no longer pretend everything will be ok
for life is suffering all the way
even our most minute singular cells must suffer
it must take an abundance of energy for them to divide

yet once divided, they are free for a while
there we kick, there we smile
only to be divided once again, we play in unison
barefooted and beaming

Song Within

receiving a connection through sound
I hear comfort and companionship
an ever flowing calm from all directions
my ears are warm and sampled

my heart beats in unfathomable rhythms

tickling the innermost core of my chest

by a dark, interesting force of foreign sentiments
I long to hear an accent of fierce vocalizations
singing to me sweetly from beyond

Laundry

incessant piles of laundry sits
smiling at my existence
in it's folds, I am perplexed
at why I must do this ungodly chore
it grows like weeds
making fun of my disease
begging for submission
to swish out the stains
a great washing of a feminist's remains
shouting at me, I do not move
collecting dust all the while
staring at this fucking pile

Drone II

A warm drone envelopes me
wrapping my heart's rhythm
all is forgiven
it's song and it's caress
are the end of my distress

Photography by a Muse

images appear
enchanted
flat and white
implanted
flowers float
through soft spoken eyes
there was my demise
through a stubble
through a smile

Filing

peer into the windows of movement

where men decay
remains will be found among the filing cabinets

where they filed their final words

Staying Small Inside

so small
I'd even fall out of the tiniest suitcase
being carried on an afternoon train ride
through the terrain of torrential rain

so small
befit for a keyhole
where I'd sneak through
watch the fool lying in his bed
moonlight shining on beloved sentiment
across his balding head

I'd crawl in the darkest crevices
mingle with the spiders spinning
in wonderment of a world so big
where the ceiling is a mile away

staying small inside
for when you find me
I will merely be a speck
finely dusted off creation's impending death

For Becky

my prickling existence
creeps about
embracing disappointment
from the pain of a fierce storm
I have left the Haitian fields
wet with tears
spilling over a cauldron
carried gently by one
who has no fears
it is to her I am eternally grateful
in utmost admiration
to her I say...
carry on my dear
spread your wings
paint your dreams

Drone

through a vision
massacred by tiny thoughts
the bloody drone
of a Fulcian scream
intercepts my dream

where I too
wonder along the shadows
being chewed by erratic windows
red with lipstick stains
on a yellow day

Path

curving like a snake
caught in dirt shaken road
my path leads to the blue
that I call home
where the edge of the universe
bubbles and rises
into the core of a blooming shore
the debris of my make up
bursts with life along the lines

2018:

I long to taste the humbled toxicity of man, 
drunk with disaster, 
and ripe with imperfection.

2017:

give me the moment beyond
your impetuous death
give me the kiss and comfort
decaying from your breath