Category Archives: #1800s

FOURTEEN

i wish I had more time and opportunity to explain my disgust to your rust-stained sarcophagus. To offer a calm palate of meditative colors for our feelings (why not) — you seemed so surprised to be called from a glass prison.

Oh, blessed crystal, what do I have to do to kiss your hand with a succulent kiss for you have forgotten the grain of truth to your rust-stained sarcophagus!

To offer a calm palate of meditative colors for our feelings (why not) — you seemed so surprised to be called from a glass prison.

Oh, blessed crystal, what do I have to do to kiss your hand with a succulent kiss for you have forgotten the grain of truth and your heart could only love the person who feeds it for nourishment — is a difficult task; so you resorted to Cupid’s slingshot!
But here’s an alternative: follow my heart down the garden path, until my sticky feet block the entrance of Cupid’s grave.

Here — get me the jar of colorful paint and I will show you the
sparkle of love.

Here — get me the fork and I will show you the flavor of our love
that came from one man.

Here — get me the ball and I will smash it across my canvas of life.
Here — get me the pencil and I will draw you a gentle, tender picture.
Here — get me the jar of colorful paint and I will show you the
sparkle of love.
Here — get me the fork and I will show you the flavor of our love
that came from one man.
Here — get me the ball and I will smash it across my canvas of life.
Here — get me the pencil and I will draw you a gentle, tender picture.
Here — get me the paint bucket and I will lay it on a canvas of life

It was exactly 14 days since you told me you left the store early.
14 dreary days and I do not think you’ve been here once (not that I
would blame you for believing it).

14 days since I was mean to you, and then you said you’d be back
by 14.

:: 12.24.2020 ::


SUN AGAINST THE NIGHT

The nasty dark night ate the sun!

The farmers wailed against the dim moon,

“Be sane, or make it otherwise!”

Yesterday i awoke with a torn brain

against lover’s thousand acidic eyes

ripped apart by dying beds.

My screaming wish held but just Ourselves–
and Immortality.

:: 12.21.2020 ::


THE WORRIED SCHOLARS

      hairy love is brutal
i kissed the epitome
   and swum across the
seas  —  like i screamed
screamed before:  you’re
so good — more than love
could wish for more —
i do not love you but because
i love you i die every word/
wishing scholars worried about
my thoughts –> i cannot protect
for their degree is a back city
trance; hahaha \ studying
me.

:: 07.31.2020 ::


MISSISSIPPI RIVER

the stairs became more
tiny as i took each step
until i had to step upon
nonsense
— i thought of those
muggy nights in a trailer
by the Mississippi River:
so perched inside my fear-
just a boy in the early
70s and my skin made it
hurt. so beautiful
is the world — but we pay
with emotional destruction.

:: 07.31.2020 ::


GOLD

SHE will say what love is:
and yesterday told me so.
doesn’t matter if the sun
is bright or the longest
of rainy days — i could
never know/mentioned how
a few true men are:
doesn’t matter if the sun
is bright or of darkest
days their true hearts are
as good as gold.

:: 07.31.2020 ::


BUTTERFLY

i am the blade never made
oh please give me
thunderous eyes
give us love
and surprise
— please
give us
more than
god could ever
from your mouth
are butterflies
spring and energy
of yellow & whites
oh yea oh yes.
butterfly.
i follow you & love
all your shapes &
colors. i do.

:: 07.27.2020 ::


NO AUDIENCE NEEDED

\

i found two feet walking along a shoreline called Mississippi River and there was not a breeze or sound: the world was frozen. Blue ice.
So i began my journey there.
found colors, notes and feelings,
a catfish caught on a line; i saw
the water and skies moving gently
across my soul; this i did and i
had no feelings — it was spectacular
to view. Caught out of time and wonder
-ing what love could ever be as this.
i am not wishing. I am not granting.
I am not human. I am not anything you
can comprehend. I am alone.

Alone.

No audience needed. I write for myself.

:: 07.27.2020 ::


WINDMILL THOUGHTS

WHETHER a windmill
or a Thought
does not concern
the Soul.
The wind mills
about until told
how to perform.
is nature
and weather of
any human heart.

:: 07.24.2020 ::


REMEMBER ME TO WONDER

WITHIN all this time
within my frail skin
my mighty heart still lies
she made a warm soup
while i wandered as a lonely
cloud that floats outside
a window while at night (dreaming):
A host of tellings —
a sickle of amazing sun-honey
lit hearts — beside the lake,
beneath trees, we thrived &
danced within the immortal winds.

:: 07.24.2020 ::


HAvE REGRET FOR NOTHING BY WORDS

\HAVE regret for nothing by words:

If south were North
then Heaven would burn
Instead the heart should
ponder the mouth
lest words could cut the
cords of souls

–//–\