Daily Archives: March 25, 2015


echo! echo!
the rumbling
tumbling words
i bled! be gone
be gone! i said!
and. emptiness.
the most profound
weep i ever had!

:: 03-22-2015 ::


The vulgarity of life
like-voices to voices,
each one sharing nothing
but the fullness of noise!
I tell you, when I am three-
hundred years of age
I should still cringe
at such superficiality!

:: 03-24-2015 ::


So finally my weak organ!
she is the tears
and fed the flowers —
maybe the greatest
act of this soul,
what hugs me!?!
i am more weakness
than wave or wind!
to possess the skin
of human.
it disposes me!

:: 03-23-2015 ::


A butterfly clip
thin legs sun-tanned
she rolls Beethoven
and who makes seaside
shores — she’s all the tide
a seahorse gallops
She’s got the future
sticky contradiction
of diplomatic treatment
And I’m so painfully out of touch
within her shores!

:: 03-23-2015 ::


My smiles are all inside
a jukebox attic of your
forever never-forgiving
bone cave mind
I have a chisel sharp-thought
bringing me a freedom
and you wish your highness
could bring every man
to his knees.  I forgot my
parakeet who speaks
all the seedless words
of your tongue.
To wait for a simple sentence
conjures an ink-dipped heart.
I’m just a tattoo kiss
upon your heart.

:: 03-23-2015 ::


Today it was the, “short-sharp” pains
of a 5th Avenue-dressed-like soul catcher
that teased my spirit to life.  Tomorrow
I believe the Southern attire with bare teeth;
a Mississippi-mud soul variety who will greet
me.  The crickets have clamped their thorax-
heart and swamp frogs bellied up in boiling
bayou of THAT ONE.  There’s still Southern

:: 03-23-2015 ::


I have a devious
minor chord
: it begat life
which I knew —
the fallen stems
of walking
lifeless shadows!
I could hug a
section of any
street if it
loved only me!
and the god-
damn birds
are lovely lean-
ing Songstress
words I am
compelled to die
for! Raw throats
of morning song
— I die.

:: 03-23-2015 ::


It’s the experience
of life that sculpts
the soul!
I too wondered why
then knew! My flesh
spoke too loudly while
the sun baked my fields!
I had the ultimate choice:
to tend to flesh or clean
my own — I choose life
and damn the flesh!

:: 03-24-2015 ::


I held the beautiful glass-eye
ocular avenue of sightless souls
— reducing me,
I know.  That thirst!  To see
what must be but beyond sight!
And always, the smell of Spring
FLOWERS & buzzing BEES — I
think love and death composed
the Score of Eternity!

:: 03-23-2015 ::