We all live in a wilderness of time
none knows
what can happen
the next moment...

Perhaps a tsunami,
a nuclear explosion
or
the arctic melting overnight
and
the seas washing away all shores
submerging all land,

all is in the unknown hand
I call nature
you may call
God
man

and

yes
woman…..

The veil is rising

Easing off
my fear strained face,
it catches
on crystalized tears,
pulling away
I bathe in liberty

The first airless void
stills all movement,
abandon was never
nameless, faceless

No longer condemned
sliding towards the light,
I take in my first breath
free of regret and torment

In the ensuing minutes
infinitesimal beauty
takes my breath again
as I exhale my first sigh...

a post date death
dearth dirt detriment
tenement blue noose
bow/tie umbilical
fetched are his siblings
seedlings symposium
trapezium drape museum

brute dawdling duck
of spiders webs
deities cranium water
blood life taken forms water
penguin of sanguine
horse hunch
two breast now
friends of foe
fiends frond for

I can breathe and see the stars as they hum
the vibrations of freedom just inches
from my soul though forever from my touch
as the cool air of the evening loiters
through the soft pages of my memories
and the sounds of the night doppler into
a sharpening focus; until I think,
"This is going to be painful; briefly."

I watch the the drear damp din
across the window cill
The weather is gunship grey

An English cliche

As my breath makes mean 'o's
on the pane
I plot
and
seethe with overwhelming
spleen

I resolve to make a plan
plain enough with
pain enough
to punish

I'm buoyed by brevity
audacity in action
he never would have
thought me brave
gumption

A heart laden with hatred
can see nothing even in the brightest of light
for prejudice is darker than the moonless night

I waited as
she ran across walls
of separation,
watching both sides pull
and tear at skirts
made of paper flowers

each wanting a piece
just a smidgen

with her back against a wall
of cardboard parquetry,
ever watching for usurpers
an entrusting look
passed behind her eyes,
but gave away
to the spark of fear
that followed

Paranoia?
or just a good old fashioned
gut feeling …

~~~~~

In the silence of late night,
crumpled papers on the floor,
nothing seems to come out right.
I think I can't write anymore.

What paltry ideas come my way
though well begun, just turn to dust.
Muse comes, teases, but then won't stay,
perhaps my pen has clogged with rust.

Is this the start of looking back
to the old days when verse came easy,
before at last I lost my knack?
The very idea makes me queasy.

The night was lit
by a bonfire.
The cascading flames,
like entwined limbs,
leaped in an ecstatic frenzy
emitting countless sparks
of sweetened desire.

I lay bare
sizzling in summer's dream,
tossing in the heat
of our dying embers.
Your silhouette
loomed large over me
eclipsing the moon.

I woke up
on cold wrinkled sheets
reaching out for your warmth,
but beside your pillow
lay my reading glasses
and upon them,
your finger prints.

Red river is overflowing her coasts
Red river infuses into eternity

So I become the red lake then the red ocean
Planets come to call my name and even then
I'm not able to understand anything
Of what I think they are saying
They simply can't be quiet as they seem

Let's say, that shadow,anyway, isn't more
Important from the body
I know my fingers well
I'm going to write a book in which
I'm going to put an autumn