the heat is an emotion
like the fluid exertion
roll over and inhale
the burning shit
aroma swirling above
the buffalo hay and
buildings scattered

dried mud flakes
on everything
we are mummies
of canals where
everyone crawls
slowly

the roads mined
and everything crushed
by the forty eight tons
of the tankers

thick american diesel
exhaust

On the beach gathering some stones
To decorate the front quarters
Black and white, immense and petite
All set to be carried away
In different baskets we’d brought

From the pebbles I collected
A gleaming object reflected
Rainbow colours inside the sun
Against the evening skyline
A gold coin meant money at hand

I turned the item round and again
Within the palm of my damp hand
Yellow turned into golden hue
With an edge of silver lining
When dropped in the ocean water

well ya'll/you’ll be enticed

what ever you may say
i shall entice you one day
the charm of a woman
none can resist
no matter how much
one does persist.

I will entice you one day,
if it is not today,
at least
some other day

with all the experience
behind my years
i know by now
only a girl can do
without any fear,
no matter what her intentions be
her lover that can never see

Freedom and liberty,
so often a catchphrase
sacrificing sanity
at the end of a smoking gun.

They're not concepts of faith or belief
they are complex ideas with no absolutes
that require thought, sacrifice, and grief
and need to weigh loss with answers.

We live together for better or worse
and freedom to kill is often the first
liberty lost.

So we consider what it means
when we lose the right to cause harm or blame
and gain the good of mutual nurture
guiding us to a better future.

static distance
collapses into
a front seat smile
along the road
somewhere
past even caring
a reconnection
lost to time
recalled in a song
by someone unknown
yet, somehow he knows
my story
the whole sorry story.
me
and lost love
sung in 12-bars of ironic blues

 In the heart of life
we grow
sometimes friends
sometimes foes
to build and construct
or even to destruct
but
we all end
wretched and
worthless

six
feet
under

under a grave stone
 

desiree
the storm has torn loose a shutter
and let the blind loot of night in

We feel it quiet against the wall
like a dream merging
the spine of seasons
ruffling vintage tests

the rain pressing questions
outside
each pearl lucent kiss
she loves me
she loves him not

breathe alive a hesitant
rush my spirit pulls on
rusty rails the steam
horse driver wheels

lean beneath the dark
the slick wear of water
against a trick of light

this new knowing
growing

Trinkets of solitude, seed-pearls
of wisdom follow me like small birds of
indecision,
how far do I go before I must turn back?
I've been here, but not quite yet.

In love with two men,
as different as the flowers of my servitude,
to whom do I owe my allegiance? Where do
I go when the last train has arrived and
there are no more excuses to be written
into a poem. No shadows of doubt or witnesses
to a holy conclusion or brief interlude, no matter
how ecstatic with revelation.

I met a fellow in my travels
who spent his life, alone.
He thought, at first 'twas his good fortune
sharing not, what he did own.

Through an endless string of days, and nights
where he never thought to share,
his heart became so hardened
he lost his ability to care!

As my life continued on I found
a man with a different fate,
his list was long of current charities
giving him, yet another trait.

CHAMELEON

All has been said and done
many times before
vsions old of human commonality
change in metaphor.
blank verse or rhyme.
different souls .
same journey’s end,
lost in time
fear to hear.
fear to see.
fear to know.
and so
from all others
we learn to hidel
live among as everyone

Beauty is chameleon.