In Your Bed

In Your Bed

–

Sitting on the porch

Of the tattered shed

Sandals on my feet

Panamas on my head

–

And I’m dreamin’

Dreamin’ that the tide

Is red…

–

Bottle’s in the hollow, sister

Sing along and follow

In your bed

–

So long as

–

Wind’s a blowin’ somewhere

Lightin’s licking up down the bayou

Fire flies, flashin’ eyes…

–

Dreamin’ of

Bottling the hollows, sister

Sing along and follow

In your bed…

e

–

PS, repeat as necessary

The Old Dog

The Old Dog

There was an emptiness inside him

A still hollow…

Where the sounds of dripping

Echo off stones

–

A place where thoughts faded

And images drank of colors

Till only sweat was left

To rim the glass with mist

–

Breezes blew dreams away

As drifting sand on mirrors

Revealed only clouds

And the ghosts of his sighs

–

He howled in juxtaposition

Plying waters he’d never seen

Trailing his fingers down walls

Lest the ancient cobblestones trip

–

If he knew where he was

He’d run away screaming

His feet flying…

Never quite touching the ground

–

Breath forgetting

To simply lean and unhinge

As stretching arms

Grasped the sky

–

And he was gone

–

This muse clothed him

In bespoke suits and ties

His reflection danced on shoe tips

That once were of canvas

–

All muddied and torn

–

Then I awoke on a mountain

Alone for the first time

The salt of tears

My flavor of spice

–

As rice spilled from holy pockets

–

There once was a boy

Who invented a girl to love

A tinker toy construct
Painted with crayons

–

And doomed to fail

–

A treasure so large

No chest could contain it

No light could illuminate

That twinkle forever

–

And then just the echoes

Of stumbling feet

The sloshing of ink in darkness

A shaking of hands clutching quills

–

Thank God for paper

–

You are my light

Blindness removed as eyes opened

That dripping, a leaky sink faucet

One drop and then two

–

Tears dried on my cheeks

–

Day and night…

I couldn’t stop the rain

Riding Night Mares alone

Till the moon shone again

–

And took the bit from my teeth

–

That train rusts on a siding

The rush of steam, seeds and chaff

Trees grow through the wheels now

As phantom passengers laugh

–

And cry…

–

A faded schedule

Floats away on the wind

The names of destinations

Out of reach ’round the bend

–

On an old trunk leaving

As the tracks disappear

The old dog breathing

No longer feels fear

e

Bees or Flies

Bees or Flies

–

Say farewell

To the world as we know it

Say goodbye

To our inner peace

Mayberry never existed

A film of faded frames

On the golden fleece

–

I bought two fly swatters

Scarecrows of the living room

They worked better than I imagined

These fly banes of climate doom

There are no more bees

Their buzzing gone

The nectars of blossoms undrunk

–

And dried upon the lawn

–

In one hand a flame

And in the other rain

The more I think, I see

My tears drying faster than ink

I wrote, I broke I choke

Empty throat croaks

God I wish I had a beer

–

They’ve won

And we let them

The will to chill

The sweat of swill

Merely swipes of a dollar bill

We’re fucked, should have ducked

Tipped the waitress

–

Not the turning point

–

Our children’s children

Will cool this hell

With dreams of ice

And a flowing well

With burning lungs

And flaming hair

Know nothing more

–

Than shear despair

–

What were we thinking?

Oh yes I know

About a quick buck

Not falling snow

We should have ducked

Not zigged and zagged

Filled these lines below

–

Where our faces sagged

–

No one will remember

How good we looked

A roast duck forgets

How well we cooked

As the band plays on

Ship overbooked

Will penguins birth a melting pole?

–

Or bears; as rugs, play in dreams?

–

The next generation shrugs

On museum tours

Asking, did flea circuses exist?

How about dragons

Surely they had flames

But wings, that’s lies

It’s not like there were ever birds

–

Or bees or flies…

–

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Never Enough

Never Enough

–

I dreamt of you

Inscrutably blue

Guns in my face

Out of place

Out of place

–

You were young

And I was old

Crackled face

Out of place

I was cold

–

You were young

And had the friends

You never had

At work, all dressed in plaid

I couldn’t wait to leave

–

I couldn’t get you to leave

Once again I was never enough

Your lunch came

And mine was crap

You disappeared

–

I waited

You never came

Out of place

Gun in my face

And he laughed

–

All I wanted

Was you and home

You never came

I was to blame

That much is clear

–

Shake it off

And gasp for air

You never really cared

No matter how I dared

No matter how we fared

–

I was never enough

–

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Waiting for Smoke

Waiting for Smoke

–

Tympanic

The play of cannon

Slides by in the distance

Unwet

–

The moon will rise

And planets dance

In a vacuum of heat

And flashes

–

How the blood flows

When all is sweat

In stillness

A jacket worn too long

–

I am a puddle

One that ripples

For a cigarette’s turn

With fan’s breath

–

I remember

The sweet and cool

The air of Autumn

An icy mirage

–

Even this pen

A word or two can manage

Before becoming

Straw once more

–

Sparks between my fingers

Static charging rent

Rolling bills into balls

And waiting for smoke

–

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Gabriel’s Horn

Gabriel’s Horn

–

The haunt of bamboo fluted voices

Lifting ravens from riverbeds of stones

Long is the thirst on the green man’s tongue

Memories of moisture, play in glazed keys

As glaciers marching, cleave to the seas

–

These songs of rains drizzle passed

And sizzle on sands long blown dry

Thunderous breezes, better smoke’s scent

And reforest my fish bone torn throat

As once did the wings, on trees grown to fly

–

Cry sweat that speaks in river’s burning flesh

Nightly chanting prayers to rain songs aflame

Whilst the last cloud fades from vermilion to must

Murmurating piccolos pattern skies past

Seed the year’s last, begetting devils of dust

–

Rust as children penny whistle in silence

As bottled ships, on plastic plains sink

The eyes of phantoms, unfocused in light

For waters everywhere, but no lips to drink

Bleaching corals, awash in angel garb white

–

Alight the turquoise and tourmaline days

The feathers of these still hollow ways

The last blades of grass

Lay down in despair

As furies of cash, lay sparks in the air

–

Pass go, but do not collect

–

Neglect thee not, as Gabriel’s horn unfurls

Though slacking in doldrums, still calls us arise

For the gates of heaven are shedding their pearls

And parched are the mouths that refuse their own eyes

As it takes spit to play miracles, not lies

–

e

The Desert is Dry

The Desert is Dry

–

As in the last moments of Pompeii

Though fire fountains and lava bombs

Rear their ashen heads in the distance

I run gasping through the cobbled streets

And find a high place to witness the end

–

A perch of brief respite, above the flow

Of magma and of pyroclastic gasses

I must speak these, my final words

Even if the ears of the audience

Can only hear themselves…

–

Buying time from darkness

Shining in the last rays of sanity

A cooling rain of images falls from me

As tears from the very eyes of epiphany

They drizzle down hissing and steaming

–

As holy water does upon demon kind

–

With embers for eyes and hair flaming white

In an endless ocean of empty floating faces

I scream from atop my shattered soap box

My meanings meandering, lost and unnoticed

Amongst the choking and murmurs and muttering

–

With blank stares returned, seeing nothing

Beyond their reaching and bleeding fingertips

I adjust my gaze to a seething sea of shouting seers

A chorale of charlatans, prophets and professors

Dressed accordingly, with equally nothing to say…

–

Or is it I who can no longer understand THEM

Having succumbed, ears towering in babble

–

Words are becoming unintelligible as Sanskrit and Cuneiform

Lost to time as Geoglyphs, Hieroglyphs and Pictograms

As sugar skulls who’s word bubbles now fill with scratches

I find myself also culpable and equally guilty

Of taking time to speak, but not to listen

–

Too many voices are now lost to the din of rabble

–

For drowning men have naught but lungs of water

No crown of thorns to offer in payment of their rescue

Rescue me anyway; I need you to hear me

To drink deeply from the bottom of my cup

And wash the cracked feet of this fisherman

–

For the desert is dry

–

e

Testify

Testify

–

Let us pray;

That moons beget suns

And give birth unto stars

That winds bring on rains to blossom perchance

And spirit so sways as in song and in dance

–

Live your dreams

Walk those streams

Pluck the strings

And testify

–

Bleed atop mountains

Search the bottoms of fountains

For that emerald amongst the coin

–

Moving through quatrains

Dangles prancing on bead chains

Are the bangles that flesh out our lives

–

Praying for moonrise

For reflections in your eyes

Thus grasses in growing reach bliss

–

This is my sermon

The seed and pulp of the pulpit

Fill the plate with action not talk

–

Walk these streams

Live out your dreams

Polish the strings

And testify

–

And ask questions anew

Such as is there yet magic?

–

Do the rhythms of the earth

Really come from such rhyme?

Can thunderous skies

Bring on the sublime?

–

Inhale pearls at the gates

And feel it fulfill you

Breathe, that birds know of flight

–

So live out your dreams

And walk in those streams

Lend shine to these strings

Be all which that brings

–

And testify

–

e

The River of Air

 

The River of Air

 

Breaths timed to heartbeats

As scarlet drummings tell

Of cakewalks through stumbles

Eyelids lit electric blue

 

A cloud calls my name

 

I fly in dreams

Floating among flashes

Thrashed by thunder

To reach for your hand

 

Fingers entwine in the darkness

Dripping with droplets

Mired of mist and

So praying for dapples

 

Should the sun rise in time

 

To swim on sunbeams

And stroll the avenues

Railed with wrought iron;

Diving for brass

 

In the river of air

 

e

 

Of Lover’s Silhouettes

 

 

Of Lover’s Silhouettes

 

For as wind and as flame

May ease this pain

And mute the scarlet of blossoms

Deep in shadow…

 

With crown of grain and fireflies

Bereft of slumber’s dream arise

Bearing wise the blue of roses

I call the moon to court

 

She floats to me on skirts of silver

Mists obscuring all aquiver

With liquid and argent lips

And urgent eyes…

 

Vapors parting

The thrill of notes in sway

I embrace the dance…

Oh to frame the heavens

As I adore an angel’s face

That bears traces both

Of bosom, and of lace

 

If I could but breathe

I would proclaim the stars

As the dew upon your hair

Our witness the reflection

As a single droplet trembles

Aching to drip again

To tumble forth…

Into my willing hands

 

And though the air is still

The rivers of your breath

Those waters of your intentions

Flow though me with a gasp

As my tears lay their salts

On the seas of your tranquility

 

These seeds lain in furrows and

Fertilized by the storyteller’s wares

Will recall the shine of moonlight

And it’s reflection…

Upon the mirrors of lover’s silhouettes

Until our eyes both, are long closed

 

e