Month: August 2015

I blame it on your kiss
That pressed my lips, burst me
Like a bubble.

I blame it on your love
That transformed my body,
Left it a home only for you.

Gather the darkness, the blankets, the pillow,
your thoughts; allow the roseate paper cut images

to come. Let them
wander in conversation

if you like
you may speak with them and you will become part of a conversation

and that will become part of a story
and the story,
a dream.

the loon’s
long lonely call
the moonlight’s fixed stare
and the distance between us now
silence

I always believed that my father had a connection with God on High,
when he spoke I shook

there was knowledge behind the unfairness or illogic in his words
couldn’t be otherwise, he was in cahoots with the man who knew

and there would be understanding, salvation in his arms if I took him at his word
I would know heaven and never see hell

but as I grew, I saw him shake at my words as I shook at his
and learned that both he and I were simply hoping for the best

Swampy, loamy soil
cries are dyed blue flowers
delicate light barely fragrant
vulnerable
they
gather on the sand for waves to
wash over them.

Flame’s yellow petals lick and burn
brimming with gold, warmth, vulnerability,
resignation and soft swampy sex

Bird chippers off-blue. Fake granite, bloodless color pictures, vinyl, polyester, linoleum
and parquet. A scuffled up boy smelling of hot hair and grins.
Time has moved on. Cellophane crumpled and clouded, foam teeth broken, a busted
nose, a black eye, a bruise.

Dark hands, grease tattoo, broken brown nails, blinks and turns.

Dull headache glare, brown sugar frosting cake donuts and harsh hot black coffee,
asphalt, broken white lines, water stains, cool damp air, smell of burnt gasoline.

She has light red hair dressed in waves and kinks. Eyes roving, face clean and healthy,
ruddy and freckled, dry palms, hands moving long. Faded promises in her hip pocket and
beneath her tee shirt. She looks for him.

Unbroken boxes, fresh cellophane washed with rainbows. Out of a box, eyes still clear,
this one offers a shy smile and a memorable evening.

Tan jacket, pants barely covering buttocks and chewing something. 

Gray hair pushed over his earphones, short thick fingers, crab walk. A large plastic
(yellow, green and red) watch, an old radio, stuffing a wad of paper into his gray slacks,
white gym socks and running shoes.


He wanders from vendor to vendor looking for her.

Darkness soft but also thin in the cool evening touch quickly and then disappear.

Alone in the room-garage door french patio, plants white dutch door un-lived in dusty spiders dead plants smelling. Alone, behind the garage every weekend something in her hands tag!

Warm hot floor rug tv casts light among shadow fumble fumble candy playing cards soft skin soft hands hair thick rich pile-ettes color rich and deep soft and natural clinging to her cheek then falling gently to her ear chewing candy with mouth open white short teeth pink gums rich dark eyes dark hair memory.

nothing is better than this
but few would choose it
preferring even pain to
senseless bliss