A Winter's View

Cliffs of snow pile the roadway

A white delight

Shinning in the afternoon sun

Dusting tree limbs and hedge

The blue sky seems endless

Clouds whisper with the winds

Feet of snowfall absorb all sound

Vehicles plod along

Leaving the sprinkled hamlet. 

Minefield

Holed in the mediocrity

A faint light shone from above

Tickling the upper edges

Of this lost bottom

A modern man shouldered the thick air

Pungent with solitude

Dampness clung to his frame

Chilling limb to limb

Earth spilled down upon his brow

Marking the moments

With tacit regress

Left to wipe at such times

He longed for the humanity above

Pictured their plight

Taking snapshots with his mind’s eye

Releasing them as quick as they came

He knew of no such luck

To capture the images was futile

The caricature was he

In this home of his crafting.  

Fatigue

Issue your complaint

Staple it to the door

The threshold that marks

Known and imagined rooms of the mind

I believe what I will

Will what is to be believed

Scrawled on the crinkled note

If such talk were so becoming

Would we speak

In such a beleaguered manner

Tones so diverse

Charmed with thoughts of momentum

Well I sat down here

Still feel tricked by it all

Just a blinking cursor

I realize I’m on notice

Taken from my repose

My limb driven reverie

Wondering

Which side is listening

Right now.  

Irene's

Lock me down

Take away the key

Keep me from where I need to be

All the spillage of the imprint circles

Time creeps over the lacquered tabletop

Tick tock

Lock them down

Take away their key

Keep them from where they need to be

Focused eyes shift with recognition

Familiar bare breasts stare backless in the evening shade

Pearls will sway from the dotted lampshade

Lock us away  

Keep the beasts at bay

Listening is the only curse

Clank goes the whistle

Missing the accordion

Table dancing past midnight

Lock it down

Spirits kept me at bay

Tried all the glasses after all.  

It's Gotten Sensory

Phantom times seem so long ago

Bound to history

Imprinted on my carbon soul

Guileless as I have become in my approach

Tact creaks in the floorboards

For I surrender to that which arrives

Clarity as my bell

Unfurled linens lay in awake

Crisp with resource

I feel that which surrounds. 

Whispers By The Road

Blanketing corners recede for spells

Looming timbers paint the skyline

Sipping a lost water jug

With smoke sifting through me

I realize the state has come

Without warning I am here

Dotting the yellow dashes

Marking distance with my travels

Went away once or twice

Thrice became the facsimile of it all

The stranger is in me

That I know

Wind sprints and he followed

Swordplay works for minutes

Judgement is his spirit

Shaking his hand was the beginning

Muddied footprints sprinkle the side

Metres from the ravine

The trek onward is laborious

There will be chasms

Movements in time felt inside

Illusions of flight spin my wheels

On occasion I may have to take a breath.  

Valley

Cut across the form that is me

Stands the wall of the rational

Hidden among the crashing waves

Sits this reinforcement

Fear laps at it sides

With tongue curling force

The spray caps my vision

Daily is my recklessness using of ignorance

Hills footstep the water’s edge

Bathing in the malfeasance of such hope and dread

I have little regard to that which binds me to the now

How I let the torrent sweep

Turning me backward and forward

Laughing with my preoccupations

Aiming at its sides

Wish as I might

It will not erode. 

Sift

Papers in my mind move me to exhaustion
Oh how they dash
Circular in their arrival
Fleeting in their definition

This palace of circled eyes is where I reside
For spells words is all I have
A lost soldier of thought
Am I on these period passages

A timeless feel to the dated
As I march toward conclusion
Reality my rifle
Breath my saber

Ordering it all with librarian tenacity
Till I swallow time
Releasing my ticker
From self imposed rapture.

Chill

The last few leaves hang in balance
Fluttering with November's wind
A few swept away at a time
Burnt orange troopers hang on
Avoiding loss
Knowing there is no solution

With the rain came this time
A prelude to winter
Remains on the carpet
Piled with force

Limbs polished grey with slumber
Line the sky
Barren in their solitude
Awaiting the earthbound flakes.

Timeline

When I was younger

I hid from the quarrels

Sandwiched by my thoughts of escape

Latent were the evenings with hostility

Immovable air hung over the rooms

I imagined a silver screen

Filming all the drudge

I burnt my rug for peace

Entranced by the wisps of smoke

The chesterfield was chipped

By the time I was ten

A place mat full of woven mirrors

Stared up a me

My upper lipped bloomed

Early in spring one year

Between the moods of sorrow

Adulthood unfurled in distance

I had a line in mind

When seeding my family

A bridgeless moral divide

Gaping before and hope

Living unaware and merciless

The thunder returned clapping my consciousness

Moments came with the current

Receded with the choices that came

After the needle dove with guilt

Surfacing to bounce to and fro

Mimicking the waving tide

Lapping at the shores of me.  

Clinging

The bespectacled man is wary of the movement

By way of those practised reactions

That comprise the core of self-definition

Limbs are lost when the tooth aches

Infected with the distaste

He feels for the moment

Out in the breeze all is peculiar

Blooming with the sun

Bending with the splashing

Shores long gone he floats

So far from his mind

Homeless with the tides of fate

Was it supposed to be this perfect

A gull poses the question

Soaring above his weightless head

He knows of need

Utility cruises with the thirst

Channelling all the fear atop the bulbous current

Almost free

Perhaps there is unabashed beauty

In the seconds of the light

With his newfound jewelers focus

The cerebral boat dissipates with the midday heat

Leaving him to bob the waves. 

Yuck

As the striking chisel

Plunges into thought

Long formed by reactivity

My brow leaks

Hardened with regressive spells

I am driven by the sixth sense

Autonomy escapes me

All around a blinded me

Wanderlust never fails

To capture the release

Of nascent belief

Anew Anew Anew

Till the carousel slings

My curled form

Beneath it’s wheel.

Underneath

Curious wonders abound with the clouds  

From beneath I can discriminate neither friend nor foe

Puzzled prying even further into their simplicity

I am struck by the nature of these inanimate decorations

Woven by a guileless sky

Narrow as I have been with my place setting in the hours before

I recognize these are minutes to consume

All that can be seen

Rudimentary is the object of me at such times

Weighing the wisps to the east

My sauntering eyes notice the thinness of each

Seemingly deceitful in form they fold onto themselves within seconds

Till the cyclic tide of creation exhales birthing yet another

I investigate the western front

Ballooning plumes dragoon the setting sun

Paternal in their expanding dominance

Colored an off putting white

Pocketing the inherent contrast I let the moments slide

Soon darkness will lope the last whispers of light

Leaving me to the night. 

Saturday Session

I sat down with a direction in mind

From within the flow was to prance forward

With positive judgement nipping from behind

Laborious the task seemed as I drew my first blank

Curled fingers gnawed at my core

Scratching the deadened mind inside

Creativity was my foe

Wrestle did we over words and phrases

Each taking a turn leading the way

Him with sombre emotions

Me with lively description

Till the minutes passed

And I left you with this

To use as you may.  

Boreal Blonde

Backing up with the times smoke filled the brasserie

Channelled mugs swung to lips with forced delight

At two in the morning popcorn littered the greased floor

Sprawled with stick in hand I was gone

A vagabond in search of a hole

Sharpening the moment blue flakes twirled to the floor

The chalky residue of sobriety long lost

Wooden stool creaked beneath my frame as I rose

Spilling towards the table

Green felt dotted with racing balls

Elevating myself still lower I surveyed my shot

Felt like throwing it all away

No tangible reason except it was the season of loathing

Changes were coming of that I was certain

I threw St. Laurent a look

Snow flew beneath streetlamps

Bending a balanced pose I leaned in

Drew back and let go striking my shot.  

September

Arriving in a  blanketing mist

The dew is stout

Perched perilously atop the shimmering blades  

Of a once sun starched lawn

These mornings beckon the added layers

 For comfort has little a season

Curled breath’s steam the dawning of day

Tiny figures with canine approach lead the master

Walking with solar light he studies his exhales

The work is laborious

Focusing his blurred consciousness by choice

Rising it curls with escape

Till the moment apexes

With vanishing memory

The years have cycled him here

To northern avenues

Far from the winds of despair

Beneath the leaning elm he takes it all in 

Footing the anniversary of his mother’s death.

Train

I have an engine in my head

It whistles in the peaceful hills terracing the beauty seen

Sending off plumes of smoke in the midday reverie

With my internal bell I grasp at snapshots

Sweeping fir trees parade from the valleys

Soldiering beneath the tracks

A pickled stream churns underneath rising tracks

Pinked salmon run the course with bubbling flight

The bridge to a granite cliff rattles with our progress

Heights sewn with the fabric of fear

Minutes lost with the axle

I wonder if momentum will cease

All stations vanished with the sunrise  

I am little more than a passenger on this journey

Breathing like the rest

In search of respite from desire

A soul longing for a station. 

Thirst

I stall on the corner by St. Catherines

Tedium releases with the calming breeze

Ten o’clock, a Saturday night

The waking city flares with activity

Unquenchable spirits cruise past in luxury vehicles

Young men grouped in black ties and pretty hair, wait for the crossing sign

Laughter fills my ears, as I picture their night

Drinks pour from chrome canisters

Music loops from hidden speakers adding to the colourful scene

Women with luscious lips take easy sips from martini glasses

Their youth entrances me, tickling my minds eye

I take a drag of my smoke trying not to choke on my lust

Jelled spiky looks and crisp white shirts

Dollar shined loafers and sparkle mined wrist watches

With a cohesive saunter they depart at the signal

Leaving me and my form. 

Teeming

A swinging pickaxe collides with rebar as I watch

The worker curses, missed his mark

Wipes his brow, glances at the jackhammer, thirsts for a motor

Ahead the tunnel looms, a blackened circle punched through the mountain

A curving timberline seemingly bends with the slope

The queue snails forward a few meters

August road work in the Northeast has many enemies on the interstate

Sharp horns release themselves happy to be heard

Noontime sun swipes at our patience, I haven’t spoken since Fairfield

The day is adrift, a lonesome berg for me

Air vents releasing manufactured comfort assault my eyes

Tearing I have no recourse, my nose is a stream

Onward he spouts his speak, tales of life, interest, and consequence

Orange signs litter the median every quarter mile crewed with dictatorial purpose

The narratives of the driver are lost on me, I have my dam

Constructed with cones of unheard desire, it is the world I choose

Knew my place in this row long before

Taillights pulse for a second fusing a brilliant thought for me

Blowing my nose again, I think of sharing it with him

He booms on about his time in Paris

Ten times a charmed story retold, my mind whirls in the quiet.  

Impermanence

Time and again I declare a level heading

As if I were the judge of such matters

Carrying out an ironclad course woven with shared spools of desire

All thirst for this state

From the desert of melancholy to the reservoir of fear

Tales are spoken in hushed tones amongst the wandering gatekeepers

For the narrative knows no bounds in the wrong mind

    Caressed by an attentive breeze

                Emboldened with solar fuel

                The running tide is tempered

                By a wistful blue horizon

With such pleasant lines I did forget the nature of being

Holding them in high esteem for a spell

Nascent in form and regard I kneeled at the altar of possession  

Clinging to the trail of happiness

It danced to and fro eventually shaking me.   

Wavelength

Making layups I rush to this moment

Twice daily I take the plunge to what is

Usually mood blinds me to the process

Sometimes the propellers of obsession guide me to its lap

Today, akin to the others is guided

Balanced on the beams of terror and joy

The breath vessel plunges me under the tide

Sinking I lose all conception as the thoughts race

Identify, judge, negative, positive, past, present, feel, numb

Narrowing the searchlight within I let go

The vanity of thirsting for meaning in every movement of mind begins to fade

This cerebral sun zips the cover shut

All continues, the mind plods the course, fatigueless

A determined beast of ruinous consequence

Image leaps over me, within grasp

The bountiful hopper is I

Pursuing, serene in this account

Resting on my back, arms at side, chest heaving with momentum

Vision of a man void of histrionics

Bearded lord of his domain, clasped in the now

A waterfall of snapshots come, I freeze a few

One a long lost mate, disciple, believer, fellow preacher

On a German tip
Time came between yet all is the same

Balls never lose their spin

The second is a bother in spirit and craft

Mine behind, his maybe ahead

An unquenchable lifer, limb giver, hearty explorer

Schedules and children took our blood

Free throws are just that, free

Push the chaise out, sit a spell, therapeutic fuel in the talk

All continues, the mind paces, unbridled

The determined beast of ruinous sequential proliferation

Lost the edge somewhere in the smiling visages

Back and forth all of us

Me to myself

Me to long lost mate

Me to brother in spirit

Them at me

Shake the end of the rope

Tumbling into the vacuum, I hear the tune

The chorus bleeds for my form

Trumpeting with jazzed hands I tremble

Clinging, make it last, search for the seer

I’m back.

You Be The Judge

I am drawing a blank

This white space sneers back at me

An indomitable beast salivating at the cacophony that surrounds

Unquenchable, how it delights in this exercise

Counting the movement of air

My breath spills with a hiss from pluming nostrils

The overhead fan circulates unidentifiable moments in time

A batter swings his stick on the screen

Flying out to left

McClure was fired by the Red Sox today

A lost season taints this endeavor

Peeling the fabric of sound

It’s surrounding layers chortle

A television, fan, dishwasher, pc

Endless is seems

How I long for the woods

A Whitman scene would be my repose

Have I caught a blank

In my spacious mitt of scribble

Simply by surrendering to the changeless ethos

That is a life of marked attention disorder

Amplified by our modern apparatus. 

Sheep Dance On My Pillowcase

La la la
Life lost us three
Creases shelve the halved sleep sled
Missing a marker

Pointed tones sing with the rising sun
Ceiling fan bears percussion
The alarm will buzz with me trailing
This I escape lumbering towards moodiness

Tempestuous mornings paint me forlorn
Way down as I lay low
Thank you guitar band lyric
Stealing the freshness of the day with my narrative

Peering inside the feline calls
Claws on the screen
Wonder why the windows dew
Now like never before

Should have used bigger words
Letters with consequence
To expand upon the river of listlessness
That is a man without his woman.

Riding the Body

Riding the Body

Shorn from the sidewalks of the known

Night curls in many shades

The moon sliced like so many before

Cerebral city lays afoot

Plowing the concourse with hoofed intention

The hooded figure motors ensnared with the discourse

Troubled fleers whisper

Lips pursed with paper bags

Cornered Asiatic figures hawk their wares

Processed spires a distant memory

A caricaturish mustache greets at the Hindu spot

Currying a massed flavor

Lonely keys dangle from a drain cover

The lips weathered with rust

Remains crystallize by the edge

Rained for days cursing the draught

Ahead the dashes blink with connectivity

Wanderers stumble cross the boulevard in delight

After last call comes sunlight

Hackneyed curbside pools splash temporarily

Piles of meandering thought form 

Thrown from the salon doors

Dusk is a few miles ahead

Grizzled with momentum meaning recedes

The walker is alone with his form. 

Teacher

Teacher

Lecturing from my pulpit

On comes a sense of being

Teeming with forgotten ideals

Veiled from the audience

I embark toward the task

Educating in pride and redemption

Crescendos spit forth

Visuals surround the scene

Clinging I lock the moment

A waterfall of encased thought pools

Spilling forth its dilemma

Worrisome soaked ankles

Bear the question

A hurried vision of grandeur

Is that all

This minute space in time

A hush falls from the pulpit

Listeners transplant ego by the dozens

Cupping the wetness

Lasting mantras fuel the seconds

Selfless in all our denial I explain

Ears shutter with vain speech

Want and desire furl with scores of known realities

Bend it all

Seekers seek

Weepers weep

My flock wails

Living with the words

My shared intelligence swords the timidity in the room

Timbre roars from within

Enthralled by the flow all eyes focus on me

Bees in my gospel  

The pages turn furiously

Flightless in their surrender

I capture the scene for a spell

Saving my reward for the windswept streets

Snapshots of my creation

Clutch at my visage

Still with the breeze

The speech travels to an end

I pause and watch

The keeper floats above

Blown from a infinite ledge high above

Circling all sense and reason.  

Throne

Throne


Here I sit at one with myself
The vapid mysteries quelled for the moment
Movement of air surrounds my lobes
Dancing with the pulse of recognition
I label each sound
Birds flutter
Crickets sing
Vehicles hum
Worms placate
Branches cackle
Leaves whisper
Aware that there is more than wind
Coursing through my tepid veins
Looping their way
Around the gates of this esoteric shift of conscience
I have no recourse
Go with it screams the beak
Shifting my weight I score the delight
With lids closed
The images run as wild frames do
Most I've seen
Some lay ahead
The shackles of known limits release
A repetitious being from care
Fear tickles this sensation
Boxed with thought no more
I borrow a woodsman tale
Beginning this chorus
I lie backless with the sky in front
A horn calls furtive with midday attention
Masked from the written history the choice compels me
To continue along a path
Woven with everything touched
By the unabashed desire
For breath knows no ache
Forward I go earthbound in direction
I picture myself
A grizzled being
Bleached by the sun
Lashed with clothing
Wondering how I got here
All the while
A monarch flutes above my heat
Emboldened by the flightless figure below.

Upstairs

A vehicle

Or machine

Wonder

Ruminate on that for a spell

Thoughts

Cross the minds eye

Again

Machine or vehicle

The writer

Forgoes consequence

Pauses for weeks

Wonders

Time lost

As they each took from me

One manic

The other void of self love

The elder

Spoke of the uselessness of pills

Severed the chord given to his daughter

Landscaped eyes of regret bore down on me

My love feeling utility in her stomach line

Missteps with each reality

Concrete in her denial

Waking with a untidy mind

Lost horizons for each

Trees of the circus

Walking the wire hand in hand

Tip toeing the treatment ahead

Excuse

To blend their clouds

Into my mental machinery

Move the gears forward

Lazy

Such transference from others

Hard work

Capture it all again

Machine or vehicle

What am I

Time to use

The scripture above

Inches

Mere inches

Over my eyebrows

Vehicle and machine

Verse to verse

Use the attic

All in

Cheers to a powerful mind.

The Edge

Breathe

In and hold for three tics

Thoughts race

Exhale the ruins of duality

Repeat

In and hold all fear

Images flash

Exhale unbridled madness

Again

In and clutch the irrational thought

History calls

Exhale anger

Once more

In and salute the escapist

Truth whispers

Exhale the demon speak. 

Concuss

Pliable reality ensnared the seeker

Horizontal truths approach the sun swept cataloguing form

Pacific momentum took the tide with him

Unbeknownst the gulls were sightless

Ridden waves tumbled surfers

Washers lost on the bolt of adrenaline

Tanned hides and wallets

Wealth laden tourists hiding leather initialed man purses under towels by the line

Coarse appraisals underfoot

Sand stretched for a distance to a bend northern in position

Bound by centuries old lava outcroppings

Footwear useless in such tropic terror for a man of little seasoning

Tossing the rubber manacles aside

Up he climbs atop a volcanic organism

Drying with his reasoning the spraying breeze nestles his mind

Aloha, even here, with me, everywhere, yet nowhere

Crevices teem with dark movement

As the one native word he acknowledges scurries with the passage of thought

All legs, the creatures dance with the bestiality of repetition

Porous recognition comes to him as the crabs heckle from side to side

Landward the arboreal scene is a postscript

Whispering to him from behind

As he contemplates the pushback forming in the minutia of passing seconds

Seeking his release among the humpback tails clapping in the distance.

Female

I saw her in an elevator, a restaurant, a bar, a grocery store

She was tanned and fair skinned

Holding a laundry basket, a pad, a menu, a can of black beans

Blonde hair hidden under a hat, red hair curling cross her chest, black hair pinging with each floor, brown hair straightened to an edge

She asked me to move, she said hello, she took my order, she took my gaze

Tall, short, chesty, flat, tight, loose, smiling, frowning, cute, pensive, immoral, moral, younger, older

I took her in

Caught her in my rapture

Released her when I was finished. 

One Night

He is starving

Little to soak from the pores

Curt responses to each plea

Signing over creation at the door

Taking coats as though life were a path

Crumple the ticket

A mere number in a pocket

Burlesque dancers toil onstage arms flailing

Perspiring wenches

Black lace

Selfish sexuality permeates the room

Off center boys with stubble reach upward

Lapping up the wet caress

Believing in chance lips sucking cocks

The voluminous racer mutes the brilliance

Tremble and bass fill the glass

Shattered recognition gulps at the spirit

Downing the spells of loss gnawing at a lost soul

Head willowing with the beat of the plus sized brown beast

Parting paths for anyone beneath in stature

Off for more as the rounds circle

Held within for spells reaching for a stagnant repose

Soiled hands atop urinal flush valves

Wishing there was more to the story

Beyond past concerts by tragic musical acts

Torn flyers greet the gaze

Floors washed with pilsner and regret

Age cackles from the shitter

Drenched living saga in a mates beard

Cropped in kitchens

Ducks make bucks

Curds create hypocrisy

Gravy is peaceful

Smiles pass the thirsty two on the town

Penises passing nipples in dimly lit corners

Babylon is here

Tears begot fears

Spilling the silence youth surrenders to adulthood

Drunk with resurrection voices pitch

Conversation handles with a backhanded residue

Dawn breaks on the two in a forceful clap

Infidelity passed between shutting what he knew. 

Plug In

Past the torn sheets

Below each contradictory limb

Lie piles of slaughtered thought

A nervous wind sweeps them from time to time

A purple sky blankets

Serene in its approach

Endless flakes fall upon what is below

Swathing distant branches in white

Leaping with the dilapidated hammer

Phrases enter an eye

Tumbling the radar of convention

The meter clicks a muffled response

Fences chorus a restful charm

A neighborhood negligent with boundaries

Propped up sheds accumulate a dusting

Silence on a stormy winters eve

 A forceful strike signals the song of a wanderer

Calling in hypnotic spells

Clouds answer with distant claps

Drawing a lonesome figure close. 

Minutes

Pelted him, raced him, fed him, held him, read him, prepared him

Food, play, homework, feelings

Smiles, tears, fears, jokes, anger, frustration

Days, weeks, months

Calendar turns with the routine

A crane adorns the skyline

Mechanical it glows at dusk

Above the hedge it looms

Fierce in its construction

He missed it

Thought Dad was talking about a bird

A laugher moment followed by upward gazes

Giggles and repetition are our keepers

Awkward he bellows

Inside job

Slaughtering all stiffness

Laughing on the outside from the inseams of dreams

Luck is alive

In what we share

Wonder and bemusement

At the simplest of stupidity.

Museum

Spurious decisions are rare in our brood

Calculating men

Meticulous in our mental preparation

Painting arrows on the entrances

Unfolding x’s at the exits

Foretold from the highway routinely

A visit to the castle

March chill in the air

Marching parade down Elgin’s belly

Ignoring blinking pedestrian signals with bliss

Hands held

Souls thumping with casual alarm

Icy paths led to the fortress

Faint hearts soldiered through

Iron cast handles pulled us in

Marble stairs held the crowd

Wait and anticipation

New exhibit on whales gathered the gawkers

Three floors above the dinosaurs

Up with the heights

Glass bottomed pathway tickled our fear

Blue whale dirigible hung from the crest

Passengers took pictures as if life were freezable

Doubters raced by

Cheered by bones and stuffed carcasses

The smaller one crawled in a baleen heart

Hanging porpoise skeletons entranced the elder. 

Out

Creases in the line of soil

Bench the plastic seat

Work cleats toil

Tattered with the remains

Where I take myself

Under the influence of a spiral

Downward I plunge

Skipping the terrain as if it were ordained

A deity took me here

She took me here

Thought took me here

I took me here

Exhale the bends of clarity

Pump with the sonic calling

It is a choice

Toss the cigarette

Turn it in the pile

Arise from the dust

Make the decision

Change the process. 

Regret

Carved a fantasy from the depths

Of my jilted reasoning

Cast you in my shadows

Searched for meaning in the void of loss

Raced you in my mind

Attention fuelling the vehicle of revenge

Crashing one blocked week

Ignoring my blinking red

A cautionary accident for me

Pieces of intention cross my dash to this day

Parallel yellow lines blurred for an instant

Braking with remorse I apologize

The speed of thought

Took me to the precipice of losing

A finish line beckons

As I near seeking you is in the rearview. 

Conscript

Carded

Simplicity in my sightlines

Engine roars

Drafted

Narrows in my unease

Bass soars

Shafted

Forward with my reactivity

Garbage pours.

Whore

Pieces in my teeth

A dinner ravaged

Beastlike I scavenge for utility

In the narrows of the recess of me

That is I

The constant siren in the wistful momentum

Driving reason past the moment

Wondering if the assault will ever in end

In aplomb

Bent over I let you take me

Over and over again

Till my insides chorus with your beat

A misguided recital

Stringing tremble only to find more

Dropping the bends of wisdom

Pick

Pick

Pick

Pick

Pick

Pick

Stabbing a reactive mind with my pitchfork

Farming the brilliance

Roosters in the morning saluting me

Cows of timidity in the pasture

Pigs hit their posts repeatedly

Straw hats for me

Coveralls

Keep digging he whistles

I am your dog in the breeze

Four bloodied paws

Burying myself in this pit

Sincerely

Your bitch

Fuck me softly

Next time

The time after that

And then some more

If you please

Was there a ladder I missed?

Itch One

Sounds of the moment pick at the peripheral mind

Each to their own boundary

Resonating in me with a ping of recognition

Laughing child cries below

Flapping with the tales

Japanimation roaring from within

Earth movers scrape down the street

Metal meeting pavement with a thud

Gravel spilling over all the attention deprived soiled warriors

The guide calls for body awareness

Touch the parts

Reason passes vessel to limb

Skin laced feet rest atop a wooden weathered deck of recognition

Energy dances episodic with this connection

Flexing with life

Clinging to this touch

Witness my thirst for an upward push

Past the ankles of feeling

Scaffolding asks me to focus on the next intake

No time to dwell on limits

Is this me

I wonder as the moments passing

Releases all with a circular breath

Capturing the unknown nature of what lies ahead.

Itch Two

The hearth of my being sparks with the call for concentration

Spun from the songbird within

A doing being

Rarely heard with these ears of mine

A cry for silence

Withheld

Kneeling at the altar of recognition

I the faithless

Skinning with desire

Plead with the narrative teller

“Leave me be storyboards

For else how can I glimpse

The true nature of me.”

Yet as much as I cry

The flame flickers across my consciousness

Dancing bent forms of thought reach to my eyes

How could I ignore such histrionic paraphernalia

For this is all my sixth sense known

Weathered newspapers trumpeting labels of the unquestioned

A mind dominant in discord

Reasoned as the veritable preacher

Striking its manifesto from atop burgeoning shoulders

Plead with the narrative teller

“Leave me be naysayer

For else how can I know

The sentience within me.”

The twigs even cackle at me

Smelling the fear

Joyous in the inevitability of contrarian response

Holding hands we dance

You and me

Ignoring that which bleeds

Country men with our jig

Substance once propelled this

Till reasons circled with the bends of healthy acquisition

I created the shorn branches

To fuel these scribbles in me

Some dated some new

A Homeric saga we sing

Etching that which began and is to come

Across the arches of totality with deft chisel delight. 

Plead with the narrative teller

“Leave me be truth talker

For else how can I narrow

The moment which constricts me.”

Artists Rendering Of the Mind

Afire with the nuisance chatter

Spoons and ladles it drummed  

Chanting all the while

Bending reality with tracked precision

Pulse of the soul cricketed the arrival

Boisterous with the banality of repetition

A mirage of thought obsession encased the form

Till the littered compartments took their turn

Strike down upon the hour

Minutes ago all was senile

Sky oceanic in resolve

Unlabeled trees plumed in delight

Forgetful the clinger breathed

Conscious of the conceit in such silence

Performing autonomous ritual beneath the waving branches

A virtual call to the disease of suffering

Hooves clapped their attention

Ache need and create chorused from the lumber line

Space between the conversations trampled again

Neurons fed for spells at a time

Field upon field of mud

A crop or two beseeched

Underneath the belief

The garden is true

Infantile the child closed ranks  

Stretched for the tit

Nursed with the drumming of the habitual malaise

Mother all thoughts in milk. 

Malaise

Spell it in the mind

The numbness of the known

A passenger life

Buoyed by the crossing skies of time

Nights sleep with the unease

Days adrift with peril

Checking the skinned frames of youth

Adrift with mere laughable consequence of chance

Years pass and the fruit is tangible

Digested with the body repetitiously

The virtual reality of lust

Choruses a new beginning

Wheels have spoken of greed

The ride has become cumbersome in its tone

Brakes worn of choice

If only such boredom was expected. 

Mountain Maker

Visions of the inhale circle my eyes

Closed to sight they conjure

A belief heralded by breath

To such creation I surrender for a spell

Dual lines race upwards with the taking of air

Cresting at the peak of inertia

A point of recognition is visible

The moment is known

Judgment arises from the height

Weighed with gravity

Bound with discourse

Lost in the mind

Vibrating with waves of thought

Reason tugs from my core

Splitting the duality of choice

The lines fall with the exhale. 

Whitespace

The mindless page blankets itself with weighted silence

Horizontal

Nestled beneath an unencumbered breath all seems peculiar

Warmth

Lost as though on retreat from the chatter

Vacancy

Sensing such tranquility startles the form

Awake

Discovering a weakened quality within the definition of reality

Paralyzed

Surrender is near

Chorus

Calling vibrations of mind nip at the unraveled span

Bind

Canine in their fear

Past

Little is left

Pain

Dance the jig

To

The moment was enough

Me

A crippling question arises

Next

A creative stream or reactionary tale.