There is one of you
a flock of me
you run
We flee
thus the dance is on
who will it be?
Who will be Jesus amongst us
caught in your grasp
so that we can live?
Heaven forbid it might be me.
Poetry
We only love in seasons
We love only in seasons
and there is nothing more earthly
than these tidal waves of lust & crime
Eve was never a woman
but a scar woven on the psyche
from all the prayers
in which we killed time
Skin-deep
My love of life is only skin-deep
because inside, I’m empty
lens pointing to the wild
alienation penetrates the bottomless pit of my lungs
and I look up to that fucking sun
and think ‘I will shoot you, you fucking cunt.’
Drunk as moose
Did your mother lick you into shape
before you got drunk as a moose?
fairy legless
Ceasar threw you into the Colosseum
you kicked every which way that you might
frothing at the mouth for a fight
because everyone is a lion
a liar
on the prowl
my little cub bear
it’s the pride that eats ya
spilling your guts is no way to hide
May as well
All this depletion
the dirt and debris of our ill-gotten gains
pulling punches
makes me think
we may as well just fuck
I want the rest of my beard back.
I trimmed my beard today
it came as quite a shock
for I had forgot
just how short
even the longest length
it will trim too!
And boy, does my face feel naked now
Poetry off the cuff: Ripples
We threw ripples on the lake
skimming stones
a reflection
how we crest and flow
a surge before the fold
a rush before the pull
a swell and then a break
all these mistakes
and successes we take
a slowing of the pace
before rushing up again
Poetry off the cuff: It was a blast
It was a blast
chasing the highs
careening around corners
watching the damselfly’s ride our slipstreams
Little beetles, hitchhikers on our shoulders
each riding on the energy of each other
Poetry off the cuff: We forgot the sun returns to us, eventually.
The red glow of cigarettes Marked the sunrise
the sun pulled up last night’s rain Into a mist
we tried to mimic the weeds
the way they swayed to the breeze yet held strong
Rooted to place.
Then came the arrival of goodbyes
among the songbirds
singing greetings.
we had whiled away the hours
till we had no skin in this play
bored and hollowed from each other
We could never be like the weeds
we chased the sun too much Instead of sitting in place.
Poetry off the cuff: A Snippet of time
The birds perched on the powerlines
little musical notes
People sped by in their exoskeletal suits
hands-on wheels and eyes on their pursuits
Weeds grew toward the sun
only opening when the rays would meet them
A man sped by with a mower
and the flowers bled pollen
The birds sang songs of blood and sex
a territorial language penetrating the sky
Traffic lights glowed red
as did the embers of time
Another sunset
before the next sunrise
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