Refresh

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
silence.

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.


.

Swell

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.


.

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.


.

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.

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.

Again

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

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

I wish you were
so much
You're love
ly.

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.

Octubris

The tropic breeze tempts the trees
and a receding sun
burnt and hazed
makes gaunt phantoms
of the smallest blade

The Goodness That Is Everything

the forever
hope of
seeing
impossible
differences
resolved
magnified
so many times I
can't see
anything
more than than the
tiny goodness that
is everything





thanks for helping me learn about
writing. I Love you.



I'm taking a long and much needed vacation.

The Comet

I struck a match in the dark and lit a candle to see my way.

Tom

Portrait of Tom Goldman
2010 5b Pencil

Idiom 23