Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Winter's Teeth


My world has

collapsed inward

I am still.

Monday, November 29, 2010

I Love You So What

If only I was not afraid

to touch the sky!

Alas, I have no monkey's

tail with which to try

and grasp that skinny

branch upon thy bough

that reaches out too close

for me to ever know.


Saturday, November 27, 2010

The Word


its crushed smile


It sentences to hunger

then puts into empty

pockets coins of desire

soon spent decorating

the mind.

Unkind and pitiless

it is more savage

than impossible.


Monday, November 22, 2010

Ode To Earth Island


O Beauty Born of Barren Rock,

O Mortal Sculptor's Dream.

What unknown miracle beheld Thy shores,

Of the Void and the lifeless sea.


The Kiss


Afternoon knelt against

evening immature weeping

blanketed in rain purified

the soft red hills clustered in

distant shadows hid the

conventions and devices of



Sunday, November 21, 2010

The Serpent's Crest


He is soft

like dawn in the western sky

in his black eyes a young heart burns

to curve steel for his heraldic

crest his hands caress and craft

lures how loud beats the heart faint

heard by passing time.


Wednesday, November 17, 2010

In Cluj-Napoka


A new darkness slowly took possession

of town this evening - unaccustomed to

being it crept slowly in silent folds

trying to understand the place.

It walked up and knocked on porches and was

welcomed into hearts with bolted doors

it sat carefully in minds weary of standing

it settled in iron cages and a tremulous

tinkering rattle was heard through the streets

In Cluj-Napoka once consumed it went on

curiously unnoticed.


Monday, November 15, 2010

No Horus

I held off the distant
thunder with all my might.
Her eyes flickered but didn't

Holding her gently
I whispered "I am as Horus
to the lip of Thor and
with the might of my heart
I command that thunder cease
so my love be not awakened."
then quietly I fell back
into night's shadow and
a deep sleep.

I awoke mid morning to
suffused tones of grey
and her tired eyes. She hit
me with a pillow smiled and
said "Epic Fail Horus...but at
least YOU got some f'ing sleep!"



Her fast jade eyes
recorded in tinctures
subtle even whispers
now clouded and dull
ached by tired sighs.

Sparked by chance
she peers over the
walls observing the
clean swept quiet of

Lost in the tension of a taught
first bloom that opened slowly
vestiges now compressed under
a backwards lying book whose
pages hold of vast geological
black and whites lay records
unseen now viewable primal
touch and first kiss lucidly
recorded with return address.

Like exotic ships lost in the sun
still carrrying their passengers
wave to breathing foam from ocean's
depth the globes rise and breaking
the surface are quickly inhaled.


Sunday, November 14, 2010


From the cosmos falls
first girls and first boys
constellations of lips
dip brewed in deep
dark magic

pinwheels peppermints
and cotton candy beguile
perfume smiles breathing
blossom songs thick
with simile

no storms or Edgar
Allan Poe lite preened
not even the
bed bugs bite

green-eyed stars are
swallowed whole as
they marvel tug and
tussle on her red chemise.


Saturday, November 13, 2010

Broken Column

On the daybed mattress
I sat apart imagining rose
cheeks with toys put in boxes
back in the sun on his shelf.

His last Christmas gifts
the wii zapper toy Indian
and happy face flashlight
reflecting in the surface shine
on his electronic red corvette
piggy bank.

He charged sprang and plunked
with crystal bright eyes and
a bursting playground smile
and loved to hold sparklers every
Fourth of July.

The room's quiet rings
around me as blind wind
chimes bring me back
to the wood stained
floor - the wind took him
away again.


Thursday, November 11, 2010

Freudian Trip

Occasionally I try to give some attention to random ideas and imagery. The thought that I've become only the promise, hope, or desire to find, get, or achieve something concrete, can be a real downer to the creative spirit. So a little while ago I closed my eyes and thought about whatever thoughts or images came into my mind and I tried to remember them without opening my eyes to write anything down.
I first found myself trudging through a dark swamp with my arms and legs fighting to get free of this sticky black goo which covered everything. It stuck to my body as I moved forward and it reminded me of when you pull chewed gum apart with your fingers to see how thin it gets before, as an almost invisible, elongated filament, it finally can't be stretched any longer and reluctantly divides into two stringy pieces. ( A few days after writing this post I got curious and I tried pulling apart a couple Trident White squares I was chewing on. I was really surprised that the gum stretched out a lot longer than I imagined it would. I had to reel it in, like a fishing line, over each hand as it kept expanding, longer in length than my outstretched arms. Luckily the Trident gum isn't very sticky. Well, back to the swamp...) As I mucked through, I was pushing away brush and sticks, and stumbling over half sunken stumps. Then I was transported into a comparatively sterile setting. I was a manilla file folder, thumb thick full of papers, leaning on and bending in against the side of an office cabinet, slipping slowly over months and years, downward onto the countertop, weakened by passing time and succumbing to the gentle tug of gravity. It was clear that the office had been abandoned before I was filed away properly into the cabinet where I belonged. Everything around me was skinned over in the disgusting office dust I remember seeing and wondering about when I worked in an office a few years ago. The swamp imagery then returned but to the back of my mind only, like wallpaper, becomeing a toned down, muted version of my previous encounter in the swamp, but running over and over again in a continuous loop. It seemed like I was able to be in two places at once. I last remember being an empty scabbard hanging on the rope belt of a shipwrecked pirate. After realizing that I was an empty scabbard I felt a longing for the knife to return.

Friday, November 5, 2010

Mona Lisa George

Mona Lisa George
smiles and millions sweat for
his eyes between their thumbs.

God was in our trust
account until eagles
died and the pyramids rotted
and arrows smoked leaves.

Tender for all debts
Public and Private
This note is.

Thursday, November 4, 2010


Your hair
doesn't rhyme
Your nose
Your eyes don't sound sweet
they are yours.

Your hands
Your tummy
Your neck
You're not mine.

I wish you were
so much
You're love

The Hit And Run Highway

On Work :

The way out
has got to be
only a fraction
of a little part
of the way in and
when we run
often it's
just that our feet
won't move.

And on Love:

So you're on
the hit and run highway
now crowded thinking "why won't
they move?"

Welcome. Drive Carefully.