You appeared and sat on the sand dune
I was transfixed for so briefly, on that breathless summer's day
A solitary figure, your fur the color of bronzed fire
Your eyes gold with such ancient intelligence
Your wild beauty reviled by so many
A feral creature of mass extermination
Suddenly there was only swaying grasses and you where gone.

The last I heard were fading steps,
were muffled sniffs and sobs,
the happy jingle of some keys,
the turning of a knob;
And soon as in a bad romance
you took leave from the dance.

I never saw you when you came;
a shadow in the night,
I took no notice when you left
before the earliest light,
Like rain that falls without a sound
to gently kiss the ground.

Merry Christmas
Geremia and Esker as also ...Ian and Stan
are pillars of modern poetry....

I have observed over the past over three years
that I have been here,

some self styled stalwarts
love to drive women out

I have held many hands
but women are more sensitive than men
so take care

I am sure even Shakespeare would have been bitten
had he been here
now than then

In the south of Wales, now don’t forget,
December to February
Is normally wet.

Dryslwyn castle is whispered with snow,
while the serpentine Towy
meanders below.

Where once there rode the marauding horde
of Rhys son of Maredudd
and his bloody sword.

‘tween March and May the sun comes out,
and the waters are teeming
with salmon and trout.

Paxton’s folly, stands silent and still;
its magnificent stature
atop a high hill.

An Awnings Worth of…

Spit out some lies from an executive
mouth what other use does it have,
you rolled the slave’s dice found six
when there were only two to be had.
Didn’t dare greet it with terse
engorgement.

Run now back to the athematic
temple, find the new guitar stringed,
inhale heartily your funny cigarette,
love her and at last find comfort.
The Yukon river still has time to
run it’s course, attributing a strange
cleanliness of our class to someone
less than you on moral stature.

SLAUGHTER

Slowly they slither
surrepticiously
from dark hidden places
when suddenly they strike
tongue needle sharp
deep
deep into the heart
to the death of all Beauty

UNA MATANZA
piano piano scivolano
da luoghi nascosti nel buio
quando all' impproviso
colpiscono
con lingua tagliente
profondo
profondo nel cuore
per la morte
di tutta Belleza

Door bells ringing, children singing
Christmas songs, just for you.
Joy they bring, with smiling faces
hoping for a coin or two.

Church bells ringing, choirs singing
Christmas carols by candlelight.
As the faithful come to worship
on this special holy night.

Lights are on the Christmas tree
pretty colours reflect on the wall.
Excited little ones, trying to sleep
hoping Santa, will come to call.

Ghosts inhabit now my home,
where once the fire cracked sparks,
and when I left,
threads of thoughts hung on to memories,
those strings that hold puppets,
our lives in fairy tales,
a tale that's told,
slowly taking shape.

We grow like trees from little sticks,
fill out, reach up, walk tall,
the sun attracting, the moon distracting,
day and night as one in the attic of our dreams
containing chests of mundane things,
their re enacting whole.

curled tongue
licking clouds
the dark nostril
in thoughtful flare

blinking blind like the
focal glee of the watts
on the dimestore tree

shit me some tinsel
and call me santa

she gears the lazy boy
handle in a death grip
slopping kentucky
bourbon on a battle
scarred street ware
when the catch releases
falling back

eject eject

"I love you madly,
he said self-consciously"
- Umberto Eco

He cries,
not a few vagrant tears,
anguished ripping sobs.
Hunched over,
forehead in palm,
he is also acutely aware
that to the non-existent observer
his entire persona
is a caricature
of grief.