Category: Uncategorized

I’d dig my own grave before handing over my shovel.
Boxes are no place for rest with walls perpetuating restlessness.
I’d prefer to lay in the grass with sand between my toes and worms in my pockets.
Bodies are designed to break down into brain food.
Scales only balance for those who score even when listing pros and cons.
Timeline’s are unconcerned with plotting the harmonious.
Expectations will take things from you karma never even thought of.
Acceptance returns suffering to the sender.
When absolved what is left to be overcome?

====
Iridescent flock from
statue armor makes fan
of stars and moon.
====
Fragrant dream of
lilies and moonlight in
starry attic window.
====
Magic black arts in
green sparkly fire
near Paisley curtain.
====
Blue electric of
velvet night and
wicked pine.
====
At the Gielgud, Dame Judi:
lightning on a
mountaintop, up close.
====
Fundamental human
longing eats like old
lemon in junkyard.
Haiku / 2.
Top floor in midnight
Brooklyn with blue glow
from old Star Trek.
====
On her peninsula: boats
by night and asleep with
frost on the pane.
====
Gold clock smiles
clouds and stars over
chess and wine.
=====
Frozen months
make well-dressed stars in sky
stand still.
=====
Plasmic rain
lights motherboard in
silicon forest of toys.
====
Star in dark galaxy
churns hapless intellect
and garden.
====
Bucket of ginger
cookies from
three years ago.
====
At the bar, we hide
in the space between
lamp and door.
Haiku / 3.
Wounded pickup bleeds
oil and memories on hill
near movie star.
====
Barren sea and
little boats with candles
in windows.
====
Coffee and liquor makes
blanket plasma for
friends in fire and snow.
====
Rain and no umbrella
pushes life to
deep kaleidoscope.
====
Aspen shadows
wake dawn cocoa and
stormy mountain.
====
Tomb where dead marsh
burns with quiet
gold skeleton.
====

The Nihilist in me knows that perceptions are too vast to lead to understanding.
As we knit interpretations into unintended meanings.
The Utilitarian in me is screaming at our lack of accountability.
As we hail contrarians without a moral compass.
The Transcendentalist in me has held the disrespect of this place in my body.
As we all absorb the ripples of shared discontent.
The Existentialist in me watches us kill all things that can’t be controlled.
As we self-fulfill prophecy in a perpetual allegory we call history.
The Stoic in me is waiting for the scales to hold reason.
As we play a shell game with our own nature.
The Hedonist in me will indulge in a vice.
As we abandon another virtue.
The Pluralist in me can see how simple peace truly is.
As we create everything in our own insecure image.
The Absurdist in me can’t unsee how irrationality catches faster than a good idea.
As we breathe the setup and punch-line of every joke.

Oh God, how damned polite we are,
the family’s gathered here,
my father and his wife and kids,
his, hers and theirs to cheer.
My wedding day planned for so long
has come, we’ll celebrate
if we can last the day without
mom bashing in dad’s pate.
Dad’s rug-rats are uncivilized,
one stomped on Mom’s new shoe,
she tripped the brat into the cake,
wife 2 said she would sue.
Mom’s “friend” rushed up and tried to help,
he thought he’d calm things down,
but Dad misunderstood and wham,
he decked the pompous clown.
Mom’s kith and kin began to punch
on Dad’s related crew,
Dad’s side stood firm and held their own,
what else were they to do?
My groom and I took in the scene,
we knew there was no hope,
we changed our clothes and called a cab,
solution: Lets elope!

Tell me about yourself, mockingbird
Your grand mimicry is all I’ve heard
I want to know your truth of being
No more lies, told with eyes gleaming

I’ll admit, your command is impressive
Though, in masking truth, it feels repressive
Why not puff your chest, fiercely caw like a raven?
Tell me, bird, are you truly so craven?

I don’t pity you, not truly
I fear the parts of you in which I see
A mirror held in my direction
Hidden away, afraid of affection.

Tell me now, mockingbird
Tell me, have you heard?
The voice in your heart can speak loud
Let it free like sunlight through a cloud.

twice today
ever so empty evacuations
thoughts so wonderful wild worth waiting
skin soft as fiery embers
burning cayenne turmeric ginger
load centered
inner visions with seeds planted
that I nurture
she buds and blossoms
burgeons in my soul
I love her petals and roots
the chlorophyl in her limbs or stems
bulbs or eyes like gems
when mine close I miss them
if ever hovered over you
i’m just imitating a watering can
your soil is warm and electric
I want to be shocked
for an unspecified amount of hours
by a wild flower

I
Imagine me
Imagining you
Waiting
Not
Long
But patiently
For me
To walk in
Just to wonder if I’m
The reason
For your smile

For you-
Coiled in my stomach.
Coating my ribs.
Crammed in my chest.

For your hands-
tanned, callused
blood warmed
Rough, desert ground.

How they hold,
the book you picked up,
gentle and just lightly
enough.

For my name-
in your mouth,
a prayer.

For your eyes-
evergreen pines.

How you look,
at me
rich and deep and
Dark warm.

For your voice-
soft,
summer evening rain.

Love
like an ocean—
waves in coils, then breaking
into blissful foam.

Golden Shovel (Camus; Myth of Sisyphus): “At any street corner, the feeling of absurdity can strike a man in the face.”

It was midnight summer July, at
that bustling red-light street where you could find any
pleasure you’d like. On the quietest part of the street,
there stood a caped man standing in a corner.
He secluded himself as he climbed the ladder onto the
tallest building on the block. He caught a feeling
of sudden urge to dance, so he danced on the edge of
the roof on that building. The action’s absurdity
caused crowds to gather and cheer. He kicked a can
down and it hit a prostitute on the head, the strike
knocked her wig off. Then, on the balcony, out came a
pastor who started shouting above him, to the man
saying not to jump, as he was young. The crowd joined in.
Confused, the caped man asked why everyone on the
street attended to him so. Then, he jumped, landing on his face