Campfires

The fire casts
its spooky glow
upon the two
-young and dumb
groping hands
and blank thought
one thing
and that only
out of desire
black eyes
a torn sweater
doom and gloom
foreshadows
all that transpires
and the small stuff
in between
Death and Dying
The fire burns dull
and the children are
Gone
ashes and grey woods
blink black
and the air laughs

Closure

The day was overcast
cloudy
humid.

I ran to pack all of my things
always late
I was determined...to be on time.

The wetness in the air clung to my skin and I attempted to shake it
as I climbed into
the cab.

The door refused to shut
so I had to
give it a good - slam.

I spoke in code to the driver
and we were on our way
50 miles and hour - I refused to be late.

I looked down at my hands
hard and tanned
from yardwork.

My phone rang
and I
ignored it.

The window rolled down
the driver wanted
fresh air.

I suddenly remembered
what I
had to do.

The bouquet was dried
subtle dead colors
of the once - bright yellows and pinks.

I closed my eyes
and said a prayer
as I untied them.

The ribbon was the first
to go
out the window.

Next
the daisies
roses -

out of the car
lush and sprinkling
in the air

I watched them fly
onto the asphalt
and gutter

I watched them fly
and didn't think of you
or that day

I chose to live
in the cab
refusing to be late.

see-through

The Sahara floor
covers my body
like chinks in armor
exposing small crevices
slivers of soul
peeking out to see
just who is
in the audience
and when I might get
a little rain

wallflower

There are pieces of me
scattered to every corner of the room.
I feel my face go flush
and my hands clammy.

My brain has been raped.
Messed about to the highest.

It's the nakedness I feel
that overtakes me
and leaves me
shivering.

sleepless

blush
and beads of sweat
glow and sparkle
on cheek and brow

we bake under orange sun
and talk of deconstructionism
and the fall of Roma
the end of empires

the grass tickles
the back of my calves
and the leaves
brush and talk overhead
the sound of fingersnaps

these summer days
have become spots - here and there
I see the minutes
a glance of red t-shirt
and brown skin

these braids of time turn in my mind
at these moments
lying on this hard mattress
with itchy wool blanket
scarring the jawline
staring at the cracked ceiling tiles
moments of orange and yellows

sound

The blue floats through the air
making its way into my lungs
and out my mind
I am lost to its rythmn
and flow
the beat overtaking me
-each note
weaving through my body
the bump...bump...bump
creating the flow
my chest
dancing

the bits

She is scared of the dark
and so
you can find her
at any party
-head in t-shirt
armed with a flashlight

The darkness
overwhelms
and destroys all hope
for escape
and direction
towards the yellow brick road

For home
is no place
distinct
or covered
with wheat
and talking scarecrows

Home contains the one room
with a night light
and fluffy bed
with thick cotten sheets
and a black blanket

Elapsed Time

The tape clicks to a stop
The machine hums
And takes back
All that it had given

Womanhood

The girlish sighs and peals of laughter
Have never passed my lips
Nor has the insipidness of
Interaction between another one of them
And myself
Ever brought true joy.
They are like death,
Or maybe life -
Staring you in the face
Waiting for you to blink.

Trees

The child sings
as she walks through
dragging her hand
against the crumbling
stone wall

New white blonde
hangs in braids
plaited and tethered
baby blue and satin
swinging

She dances
towards the hydrangea
and under the oak
her song is growing louder
as she leaves the path

The sky cracks
and she moves
undisturbed
the melody
never faltering

She rounds the king
his bark is old
and falling back
to the earth
like snakeskin

Around and around she goes
until, at last
the braids disappear
and soft movement hides
her voice - trailing behind

Untitled

The well doesn't always run dry
The spring at its heart
still beats true
When the soil is at peace
and the clouds hang
high and whispy
in the sky
There isn't a carrion
to be seen
or a bee's sting
-felt-

We are the God-children
the offspring of the Sun
and the wildflower folk
We sing our prairie ditties
and dance the Irish jig
on lavender and clover
Heather and orange blossoms
decorate our hair
and our eyes foreshadow
the future
and the end of our happy kingdom
For it will-
All will come to pass
with the east winds
and the winter rains

*

For outward flows
a silver radiance
It ebbs
and stares
at the shoreline
afraid to move - or stay
And so I am flung
upon that wave
clinging to
the very assuredness
of its timidity

Daydreams

An eastwardly wind
sends me into a tailspin
and I cross my fingers
against their voodoo
Mumbo Gumbo
and flashes of light
I choke and burn
Flailing apart
and struggling to find
My way
In the downpour of magic
Blinking memories
And mistaken reveries
My eyes flutter
A lucid dream
A shaken reality
The captain shouts his yo ho hos
Fee Fi Fo Fum
My hands reveal
the blood of an Englishman

Eulogy

When I am gone
won't you please,
erect a statue of me-
any shrine will do
even a totem pole

please cry at my funeral
and make a big fuss
about the flowers
and who will give
my eulogy

Make me into a hero
after I have left this
"cruel, cruel world"
Ha!
make me into a legend

I won't miss you all
when I am gone
for I will be dead
cold and rotting
in my metal tupperware