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
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
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
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.
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