The bon mots
of a morning
colorful
conversant with clouds
and the sunny tricks
of light
that betray
the debut
and ennui
of another
long day
I am
red white
black yellow
and green
you unseen
feel safe
to hate disbelieve
and berate
I want to be spare
not lean
a rashers worth
of the good life
sticking to the ribs
the primal
misapprehension
of my intention
instigated by
the immediate
amygdalic erection
of the invisible tripcord
to the electric
chicken wire
of your caged
paranoiac defenses
begs a reciprocal
defencing response
a priori to any unintended
apprehension my
innocent comment invoked
and disrupts
any sequence
of tranquil rapport
precipitating a recurring
chorus in turn inducing
a redundant stuttering
rendition
of the prosaic
lover’s lament
Whine and repeat
droning
sing songs
of wrong rhyme
and entitled defeat
full of shallow
sentiment and fashion
no lofty loves
or heartfelt passion
jingle singers
nursery cribbing
gibbering frog perfume
Stars failing
to forestall
their falling
marquee their
meteoric performance
through stellar
crossed skies
reflecting their demise
in the blink
of hoodwinked eyes
until there is
nothing but night
Long standing
trees survive
for centuries
by rooting deeply
and lipping sun
from every
visible spectrum
achieving their
aspirations
by leaving
We rarely
make 100
by chasing
elusive optical
prismatic phenomena
and transforming
the invisible into
the desirable
unrealistic
dream rainbows
As I wend
my way weary
toward home and
cheery hearth
tired to death
giving the earth
my life for warmth
winter cold
shrew souled
skeletal
An unorotund
less than mellifluous
marmoreal pretender
expounding
stone lines
with lead chisel
sound the branked
and tight lipped
artfully engaging
their shrunken
hearts and skulls
encouraging
tied tongues
toward unbound
dedogmatic dialogue
The joy of after and apre
coital consensus commingling
coalescing the mutual plasma
of caressed familiar senses
into the ultimate consequent
simultaneous seminal
spasmodic crescendo
condensing the
momentary removal
of individual divisions
into a singularity of passion
whose expression in the wild
is undefiled by
distracting
mechanical distortion
Esprit rueing through
the avenues of Paris
matching stride
for stride
each stall
patisserie
boulangerie
fromagerie
calling for a taste
don’t make haste
savor the
dawdle entendre
pole vault woman
she is worth my salt
if a man can’t lover her
it’s his own damn fault
bullet train mama
she curves up to speed
her boilers glowin’
you can feel her need
Nature’s sculptures
painstakingly born
worn from rain
patiently eroded
free form
from materials
at hand
rock wood
raw land
purpose suited
resistant but
non permanent
twisted gouged denuded
with thoughtless beauty
by the planet’s potters wheel
As you embrace
on the shore
of your nuptial voyage
facing the consummate joy
of your maiden marriage
still a freshening breeze
cast off doubts for delight
as your twin beacons
unite to show shoals
that would maroon
trothed goals
run deep in
still waters
while you can
Who is 4?
Eve is four!(4)
she was three (3)
So give her a happy howl
and a Birthday hoot
soon she will be owl wise and no surprise
smarter to boot
because she is startin’
kindergarten!
Flutes in the lighthouse
to high to hear
the fledermaus
echo locating
silence
seagullabies
woodwinds towering
in the starless velour
lunacy of moonlit loons
hovering horned owls
mourning doves
transmuted in the unheard
undawned hours
As self absorbing darkness
predictably grays another of
the fast diminishing days
with dimming repetitive motions
that quicksand you into
the emotionally absent mire
of suryph’s conversations
the relentless deceptive attraction
of the snake pit’s rippleless
reflective peace
tempts you into
touching pitch
In comber’s cadence unguided
they promenade unwavering
from plage to promontory
in unbroken rolling stride
driven to their repeated
self destructive frothing suicide
unrolling restless trolling
trough to peak
hissing broken sighing
endeavoring to speak
of journeys quartering
before the freshing breeze
and the ever following seas
Out of the
carnival fun house
with its distorted
mirrored self images
enswanned again
into the formerly
faithless frightening
tunnel of love
spun out of control
onto the giddy carousel
to find at the end
your lighthearted illumination
Eden’s chypred air
breathes from her
unbrushed sun hushed hair
the monocled
ragamuffin moon
swathed in tacky
pearlescent scarves
pops pumpkin hued
into the crisp
apple bite
of the autumn night
over the fringe
of the ice shawls rills
the owl’s snow angel
wings brush the air
knelling for tit mice
and the invisible
winter hare
We are possessed
of an irrepressible
affinity affianced
of a sensual seance
yet heart shrunk and skinless
I sleep untouched
nestless and benumbed
separate celibate
a cellared monk
untempted without
virtue of a virgin
twin within
When winter ending expires
tossing in the white glove
and singing his
swan song
to Spring
acceding to
the budding and tamped seeds
who aspire to the untamed
warmer desires
strive to exceed above
the cramping earth
acquiring quickening from the sun
all require enlightening
by the illuminated
gardener of Love
To brave the reticences
of unhealed hearts
requires trust in
inner feelings
what may enSue
by happy coincidence
or fortunate prescience
comes just in time to
start you anew
Elevated
just above
the care full bed
to a pilotless plane
hovering out of body
enlightened
mooning away
in an eccentric orbit
on approach avoidance
following the lunar radar
waiting for the smoke and mirrors
of the djinn’s
out of the bottle tonic
to mend the unpeaced puzzle
with “the unbearable lightness of being”
beginning to end
the unsuitable period
of mourning
to live by the billions
a black blizzard
buzzing for a day
dying in drifts
of spent
gnasty
reproductive bliss
The many hatted man
mahatmas you unplanned
an uncannily silk wise
confident confidant
an undisguised dangerous spirit
exposing and espousing
unasked
a life unmasked
expressed empathy
implies a mutual
compass of souls
hand held communications
agreed regard
on a steering star
a kismet kiss
met halfway
by hearts in the
right place
for celestial navigation
Lady in waiting
till year’s end
to be unbounded
anticipating a friend
by noble men
sorely confounded
where is the true way
surely unfettered
when two view
a new day
it has already
been bettered
milkweed seed
freed from your rough
scrotal pod
enlightened by the sun
streaming through your silk
perforced to embrace
the changeling wind’s
enforced direction
choiceless yet seeming
free to propagate
The breath thief
takes you at a gallop
barebacked beside yourself
a ride wild and unwilled
flank to lathered flank
firmly straddled
fingers enmaned
emotions unreigned
leaving you unsettled
hoarse and unsaddled
restless for the steed’s
exhilaration you needed
Held in abeyance
seeing a woman
who says she
cannot see me
the constant flail
of coarse music
the sly pillory
of imposed distance
beneath disesteem
unable to import
even a goodbye
who can sum
a life
with all its complicated
multiplications, additions
divisions and subtractions
it is an unbalanced, incalculable
equation where though
all our days are numbered
and every thing amassed
amounts to naught
There are too many variables
to fill the absence
why then are we non plussed
to find that
death
the infinite negative
can summon life
Only from
the initial illuminating
grasp of the movement
to the gasp of perception
as it dashes past
does the meteor’s
moment last
after a spell
under an apple petal
umbrellaed in
the scented musk
of flushed mushrooms
the season appears
ducks in a row
scatter
in a ruckus
as I approach
a bass
bent rod bears
the fish augured
to be barreled
fated to be filleted
the reflective lake mirrors
quietly requiting
the toss antlered stag
against
the holed volcano moon
I’m in fine fettle
fit as a fiddle
testing my mettle
pot called a kettle
so give me a rill
to jig
and gill to quaff
and fill my big belly laugh
on my lip a tune
of a lass in jeune
and another peccadillo
Ho de Do
for I’m a fine fellow
Tilsit, figs and swans
sunning on the Avon
harvesting the fall
pulchritude of words
wiling away an hour
between scenes
as the thyme on my hands
flies scented away
My fruitcake woman
sweet thick with
her own special spices
secret ingredients
textured and confettied
with candy
dark as devil’s food
wild as the whiskey within
yet warm and mellow
yellow as ginger
a hunger of Christmas memories
eagerly awaited
made to be eaten
The great white father’s
devil red skin
and little big horns
buffaloed a golden haired
massacre into a
last stand to amass acres
while dog soldiers
slipping on a trail of tears
ghost danced
scalping last chance
tickets to extinction
Flashes of infrared
and tourmaline
touch the ears and throat
opalescent jewels
share the iridescent
mutable character
cool turquoises disguise
the fear of trusts
russet golds radiate
contained frustration
all the tested mettle
alloyed in confusion
the toughest stone
shielded from herself
repeated intricate
pattern hammered
too thin to continue
reveal immutable features
that abrasion cannot efface
return to the crucible
of will which
refines impurities
relax under the necessary
internal pressures
that evolve diamonds
from deposits of past
depressions
Rely on time’s
pearlescent nacre to lustre
over lost love’s chancre
make a touchstone of your heart
with a partner
and your reciprocal proximities
will lodestone you together
polishing away
both your peculiarities
Poetry
mental notes
human music
played with
voice joy
mind’s eye
learned rote
pass worded
vocable
turns of phrase
Centuries of wind circled
stroking the cliff’s
protecting face
into tophatted
hoodoo pottery
stippled with seep’s
salty earthen tears
parched worship unappeased
by foot drum thunder
cracked shards
lit by atalatl lightning
upset the magic’s balance
unstacked the odds
ceremonies cannot
sooth the eroded streaks or
staunch the
stone’s blood
one gust gone
driving the
ancestors of the enemy
from the living rock
scent of straw hats
cedar chests
and cigar boxes
call of a bittern
cave seeps echoing
geese southing
taste of scallops, corn
and cauliflower
lobster in butter
feel of moss, silk
warm lake water in
moonlight
dancing in thunder showers
creased and
well fingered paper
smudged from
amending each
imperfect word
from balancing
each line on the
entendre’s double edge
removing layers of
onion skin to
reveal the
perfect idea
A barren boy
without blossoms
having lost them
in innocence and youth
my limbs were stiff and unbending
from a winter in the forest of truth
Now I stand in new found freshness
with a sight full of summer in you
and I’m budding, branching and growing
with a flowering point of view
Well you were lost in the living seas
a gentle breeze snared by money trees
they read your palms and danced your feet
saying to win you must compete
you blew by me to claim the prize
but you were fooled by my perfect disguise
so you swirled around the lookout tree
and found you were standing next to me
we’ll stick together we both agreed
you’ll be the fruit and I’ll sprout the seed
whistle in my hollows
and ruffle my hair
while freedom follows the path we share
personal prisons
bonds of love
bound by convention
and the glove of
bodily geographies
the permanent
press of stress
codes of honor
conduct and dress
bars of music
all the social clubs
ethic constrictions
religious convictions
brand names
products of environment
parental opinion
and circumstance
beaten by blows
not ours alone
has thought never been
original or ever
just a sin
capriccios on
the esplanade
swanning waves
castanets of
lacy spray
the green man smiles
from the hearthside
where the chocolate cat
curls like the flames
the deep of winter
whirls white flakes
while a child
dradles daydreams
the mother ravels
a soft sleeve
sweatered the eve away
the father
spun aloud a story
letting go of his day
that wild whiskered green man
whistled a softening strain
which sounded strange
to the winter playing at draughts
twas naught but an aire
attuned to spring
never the same shore twice
bubble bathed
whipped cream clean
tidied twice daily
scented with pine and brine
treasures bared and buried
culled and curried
by gull and comber
foot prints wiped
at the point of no return
sparrows for a space
out of the storm
warmed by
a light already old
white quiet descending
bending low
the fir’s furred boughs
briefly fossiled
frost fractals
unmirrored in
the fractured
ice above
the great lake of life
never freezes smooth
thoroughly corrupted
by Thoreau
simply bedazzled
by Buddha
going nowhere
in Erewhon
once upon a time ago
lived a prince
in a land
beside himself
he believed
you were what you ate
so, for breakfast he had
a goose golden egg
but only got a small fortune
and a hard knock
for lunch he had
cheetah feet
alas the race isn’t always
to the swift
and he was swindled
at a memorable tea
he had elephant brains
but you cannot live
in the past
finally he repasted on
a seven course dinner
soup to nuts
savory whole roasted pig
as the spice of life
is always food for thought
in the end he was only half
of what he used to be
shadow boxing
and you all punch drunk
and judased
every undertaking
pantomimed folly
undertaker’s fodder
coffers of
promised happiness
emptied to the coffins
of stringed fair weather friends
pulling no punches
sparing none
the spoken sparring
sans matadors
trapped bulls charge
inside hedged stones
an uncowed whirlpool
of fury
a statue white stallion
rears gravely
under the coin eyed moon
each hoof beat emphatic
epitaphing a standing stone
night’s dark mares
dolmen free
of apocalyptic horsemen
pale and riderless
stampede to the finish
in the race none wishes to win
steedless and bullied
we stand still
swords enstoned
in the headstone arena
unmagicked waiting
for soothsayings
and princely pulling
Marry! a mare’s nest
to marry contrary
mores the pity that
more’s not merrier
on this merry go round
the long gong
echoes off the
emotional peaks
each peal striking
a personal note
breaking the moated
sound barrier
from hearer to bearer
appealing to harmonic
accord speaking to
a muse whose
chorus gathers us
The loose limbed
strut of youth
stiffens to
age’s puppet crutch
gone the teenage
angst and idealism
replaced by middle age
regret and realism
wild escapades
memories made
slipped to
gratification delayed
trust lost,
vowed love unfound
elation foundered
to resignation
nonetheless
the ever loving optimist
eats fat chances
savors pit falls and
cooked goose
and has cake too
plucks luck from
world size oysters
and pulls wisdom
from the pearly teeth
of swine
the froth of new wine’s
truthful message is
never bottled
sagely corked
or wisely aged
by wizening
Tis all the rage for
the aged deranged
toward anger to rage
spleens vented on
actions provoked
but not prevented
by a history of ailments
in blood
endlessly descending
Beach glass
mosaics ghosted opaque
unbottled shards
of urgent messages unreceived
brittle, broken rainbows jigsawed
shore softened sand blasted rainbows
humpty dumped pieces
ever puzzled
Snow Job
He started during
the blizzard of ’99
shoveling driveways
porches, steps
incessant snow
covering him uncovering
what was the point while
the whole valley view to
the water was and evolving
pointilist panorama
chaos drifting to silence
distancing him from
the white static turmoil
of life descending
to existence
randomly elected paths
unpredictable
The snow is slow
white as ice
soft falling
deeply drifting
white as ice
hard as marble
deeply drifted
swiftly sleighing
hard as marble
sliding slushy
swiftly sleighing
Santa swooping
through the slow snow
Widow weeds wake
in boxes
set on sills
blossoms coffined
in the bed
lilies laid in
deadly nightshade
and doll’s eyes
closed over irises
bachelor buttons and
faceless forget me nots
grandfather clocks wound down
not ticking in time
to a final knocking
on the one sided door
only half century open
subdued bouguereau figures
haloed in soft saint light
Faeries are exquisite dancers
and, for those who are quizzical
their plies are far from physical
a favorite fling is the happenstance
best when viewed slightly askance
tight rope walkers weep
jealous birds shrill
at their skill in keeping balance
without wire or wing
they appear here and there
waltzing on air with room to spare
but if you hope to try it
gravity will deny it
the best we can wish for
compares favorably with the dinosaur
and yet, if faeries be but in our heads
can we not be dancers in their stead?
How do the odd see
on their classic journey?
guided by old lights
from caged cantoists
whose insightful windows
indivisible by two were
thought to be missing
the odd pain or light
to be scant a few
uncanny grams of gray matter
to make the pound
of flesh needed to
steer the ugly ducks
closer to home
self propelled
pell mell
down unfurled
eddied salt fizz soda
boiling past the ribs
siphoned and slingshot
through the surface
slapped on the bottom
and born to shore
A midsummer’s day
all the trees are shouting
limes and olives
while acorns argue
under footfalls
on greenland moss maps
frogs repeat the same
old jokes
(all the time no one spoke)
and the pond responds
with giggle ripples
and dimples as
we all do the
sun stroke
Possessed by the
spirits of sparrows
brown and blown
bleak by harsh
harvest gusts
a flock of now
superfluous leaves
settle, start and circle
as the true birds in hand
struggle under their
own power
So vulnerable
those simple
glimpses through
twin mirrored
trap doors
left ajar
purposely
for someone
curious enough
to explore
and candidly display
them for us
Those two swans among the reeds
they will swim
until they freeze
circles ever smaller grow
they must leave or don’t they know
up is the only way to go
Swan’s are silent
they do not sing
but there are other ways of taking wing
free yourselves twin birds of snow
flee your icy prison floe
up is the only way to go
they cannot hear nor will they see
swans are much like humanity
we could fly if not in air
yet we choose not to dare
their ivory wings will slow at last
fighting feet frozen fast
some creatures mate for life
the swan will not forsake
his wounded wife
so they become
a crippled pair
a trout supple
member elegantly
suspended in midwater
finning anticipation
in constant motion
on the brink of balance
dimpling the
surface tension
with controlled rise
release and capture
that satisfies hunger
all in one
liquid breath
Your voice has an
eager catch and
an air of yearning
while we still fencing
and learning with
our defenses
trust your senses
to the elan of chance
the harp of happenstance
mouth the sounds of promise
even of compromise
admit anything to attain
the attention and contentment
of an imagined home
let us sing
the prodigals madrigal
and at least
attempt our feast
Have you made
any progress with
your ever present
inner frown
which has never
granted your wishes
to whom have you prayed
when the nameless afraid
attaches your tickled death
lo, how bent down
over the hollow moon
the punch pleased youth
and even your seventh heaven
is long in tooth
Green man
of the green wood
straw man of withy wood
both bois blanc from
Jack Frost cum
spring healed cum
napes come Learing
mummering the annual prank
moorish boorish
ranks of men dancers
the beribboned old guiser
his norse hobby horse
Old Tup up the maypole
Jack in the box on top
popping cherries and maiden heads
to placate the horn mad equine ox
scapegoats cuckold old menhirs
morris dancing on dolmen
chanticleering the son’s return
chanting “blood for the stone”
twining the sword knot
round the nape of the knaves neck
wedding by beheading
virgins to deathsheads
and separating hearts
from sanguine valentines
seeing what the jackdaw
secrets away
gash nosh
meat and drink
fill the flesh bag
to be tomorrow’s stink
day in night out
just to think
Even this
small paradise
has its burrs
but the water is warm and womby
and the milk white beaches
bosom your reclining body
while the sun blinks rapidly
and your leisure eyes
close the days
All corners cut
edges of
unconfronted knowledge
that sunder past plateaus
with upthrust wedges
of wanly uninvited insight
arguing any shallow
abyss where one may
lay in allowances or excuses
the self made nooses
that in other hands
would be chance’s rope ladder
toward hope
used to advance vanquish
conquer and climb
He was a minor gnome
from his eldrich corner of space
in their least his kin
can whim one from beast to man
or worse give you his face
We were spiriting
whispering through the continuum
when just for mirth or
on some small excuse of trespass
we were forced to warp
his looking glass
toward a body called earth
and for what its worth
we are still here
signed with a sigh
Madam and Adam
predictable imperceptible
doming up
yolking yellow to blue
dawning on us
precisely sunny
side up
Insular islandic the
sand surf sky
dynamic fluid framed
tryptic from
peloric clouds
pelagic
lightning terns
strike in
sedulous triads
at the corrupted elusive
fish shadows
the thin line horizon
scalpels the
golden calf
half sun
the day indeed
done
Self importance
is secondary on
the social calendar
to family which is
supernumerary to
voluntary simplicity
Deer dancing to
the full rondo moon
owlish fowl fugue
questioning
the lunar whom
loons uulating
the slumbrous lakes
lapping la la lullaby
Autumn’s axe
breaks butterflies backs
frost cataracts frieze
frog’s ponds
but Spring should surprise
rising redolent where
the ash of winter’s unfreezing
lies reclined and wane
vain glorious in a splashy
green geyser
a frizzante of
mentholated mental scent
fruity infusing
leaving the firmament
leavened and in
warmly welcomed ferment
Sharp winter’s light
hardens the sight
and snaps all shades
to the brightest
each color sallowed
and flayed
bone white
no more the humid
summer shaft
that renders hues
so hazy or the welcome
lazy diurnal wash
of verdant vernal
brumal rays though
are bound by
shortened days
drained and divested
of all but white and shadow
this achromate visage
suits their cold
tuition well
for virgin vision
You cannot see me
waiting unobtrusively
a shell held to your
unhearing ear
listening for a fanfare
blown to your unknowing heart
but I suppose the blind
do not smile at their mates portrait
perhaps you will recognize
our desires as identical
and lift that fearful veneer
that will not allow
or acknowledge
such chemical propinquity
or let it degenerate into
folie adieu
for the responsibility
of such an intimate vow
rest ultimately
between we two
Long draughts
of strange liquors
tossed off in
strong airs that
bury the Beaufort scales
Prosit, Tres Forte, Salud
a salute to the storm
counting the wave tops
from the hermitage hill copse
of bare birch that hunches
over the beach
straining to remember
an earlier gale of November
with a weather eye
falling glass
and lowering sky
brandy dwindling in the bottle
come sea go sea
com se com sa
By howling furies all
sleet twixt the thunder
and squall
Oh the cold
how it strikes you
right in the eyes
Thank god for the grog
to warm these insides
From storms like this
are born horrid tales
of sailors that follow
a light that fails
Thin red line of lip
curved by cupidity’s quip
nothing dims from dune to dale
what was scarlet now pale
always unadulterated Anne
Carrying catafalque’s
Atlantes and caryatids
unbent under the burden
of their awareness
from above but
unable to find an
earthly purchase
to rest and regain
their former innocence
no longer afraid
of ages changes
needing no aid
to face the wrinkles in time
My thoughts mandlebrot
noveling over
a resounding idea
that does not resonate
in your echoless
monotonic
emoticon mind
By snowy fields and lanes
she keeps the waiting
in candlelight
the sacred altar shines
He suckled the young lambs
upon his knee
even the weary sleep
in peace
he read the stars inside
her dream
but he was blind
all winters long for spring
she kept the vision vigil
sweet chariots of flame
against the sky
he played on the harp
sweet melodies
children and emperors
came to see
he drove the dragons
to the knights
but he was blind
Walking
in a vague fog
living in limbo
misty I’d
Seven bells
said the captain
one horn called the shore
in the fog that enveloped them
closer than
an old sailor’s whore
Dead head
the muscled muse
amused has fled
abused bemused
what was read?
the place where mind
and matter meet
is indiscreet
thew bound
imaginary men
begging the question
of egg or children
A cardinal brake
signals spring
across the green
light of lawn
Horizon’s marring uncertainty
disturbs the peace of mind
moiling unwavering reason
to insanity
jarring the pax de la mar
with a gritty salt grained pill
that life like the sea
is never still
Our vaunted
barrel vaulted brains
hold the cure that we
must not keep so greedily vaulted
just bring both barrels to bear
giving shot to the dark
bearing in mind
as we bare our sharing
that we have a care
the barrel’s bottom
may be bare
The attractive grammar
flattery of floral magnets
causes Commas and Question Marks
to pause and inquire
at their flowery pheromone courts
observed by Painted ladies themselves
overcome by the cologne and color
fluttering with unblinking eyes at
the winged applause and admiration
of nectaring Monarchs
and their sipping
short lived Viceroy mimics
lured despite the
advice of airy Admirals
and their Skippers
by publican hues
and nosegay scent sentences
to become smug pupals
snug in the novel
reinCarnation caskets
of the Chrysalis Palace
Disingenuous Heroness
pretender heiress
empty avian eyes
calculating shrewd beaked
faux feather head dress
stalking your feathered nest
In the brainforest
every thought leafs out divining
unlimbering swinging
limbic branch to branch
synapses sway toward
every wet burst of lightening
in the daily sensory deluge
dendrites sort the detritus
brainstorming the unformed
pooling information
without a drop of sense
and with a flash
making sense of every drop
Why does this
horrorshow
have a Spring
broken bough hands
still finger
buds anew
flowers rise
from graves gone green
en mass
who hates dew
what rage is there
in soft rain when the
air is fresh for all
how can steel
invade flesh
upshot blades
are shoots
and afterthoughts of
winter ever warm
Distracted by
fluted euterpation
lost in sensation