hard youth

my giacometti walks
a sunset shore
with wrought-iron sinews
& breasts like nail-heads
dark as midnight sex.

bamboo moon

o the ecstasy of mosquito bite!
red fester on naked thigh,
no romantic ode!

soaked

summer rain a ten-minute deluge
from lungs of imaginary
sky god

between breaths

summer lightning in fluted wineglass
tilted sparkle

not a persied

dark shelf

matchbox toys
tiny women that jump and run
clockwork by swiss alchemist
long dead

buried with pawn ticket!

30th anniverary

front porch zydeco
heard for a mile
brown jug & two spotted glasses

mama dances dizzy
papa sets her down on the swing

large heavy people
kissing & petting all night long!

porous

belly flesh pink as a conch's song
by the sea,
                    a slow burn
while pretending to be asleep:

12 sorority sisters,
a confederacy
a coven--

one turns over to tan her back,
the others do the same!

afterglow

sawgrass moon
low over rusted
cowshed roof--

we walk by, gaily
unbuttoned.

home watch-lights
(guilty windows)
lay ahead.

owl's mute nocturne:

inquisition of elders.

ex nihilo

unmoored moon
cold face in the trees
bright as the beating of my heart

hush
listen
be

summer nocturn

three gray hags sharing one eye
now camped on the front lawn,
lathered in moonlight
laughing at owls:

i look upon their nakedness
and wonder.

things they must know!

moulting

moon's silver serpent
sheds one skin
then another,
a melancholy:

drifting in summer's
owl-eyed breeze.

murmers

a clash of mountain bikes
resound
              along the ridge trail, and
              two cyclists scream
to nonexistent gods
    the length of their deep descent.

unearthed, an ancient femur,
female,
              and a cache of potsherd,
     unnoticed in the calamity--

sycamore echoes eddy
          on the switch-back rill
          where she birthed,
          nursed           and sang.

ghost in a woman's smile

in dream
ever the vagabond in rough boots
footloose and 30,
ever late for a forgotten
assignation.

drifting.

astronomer

shikasta sat at lawn's edge
talking about the stars clustered above
to the cricket in a wood cage;

there was sagittarius with its hungry hole,
whose concept worried her
just a little.

the cricket whirred and whirred
until it died

fertilizer

old lady chatterly,
tipsy in the afternoon
from dry madeira,
would giggle
at her own naughty humor,
patting her fallen bosom
with glove of white lace:

"my gardener used to say
a rose is too smart
to fart--"

saturday 7/20/13

gray sun covered in rain
etched in charcoal
an opaque atlas
sculpture

out there

such a hush to the rain
earthen-eyed beasts
stand like plaster statues.

french class

phone call in dark of night
slurred velvet voice
sudden moisture on my receiver
a kiss

high school reunion
#3

the evangelist

in silent dream there is no pain
impaled. the blade thrusts
from my mouth  like a shout,
and blossoms
into an olive branch!

observe and report

rolled the garbage down to the road.
frogs silent in the palmetto.
mackerel clouds beneath a sharp half-moon.
on the porch a luna moth,
not pale green, but pale gold
in the lamp light.

woman of the night wind

she drifts in moonlight
upon the wild glade
like a pelagic sea anemone.

her slippers are silver stars!

retirement

the man in a deerstalker cap
sits by the lonesome café window,
counting the hours of his life,

waiting for the blue-plate special,
which is never served
on a blue plate.

at saint patrick's

red nails of beeswax,
their heads scented with aloe
& myrrh,
                   numbered seven,
along the spine of the bright
paschal candle.
                           
seven terrible wounds.

once in holy confession
nine-year-old stephen
told father ambrose
that the stations of the cross
      (the entire passion, actually)
             gave him nightmares.

keats had his critics

bald scholars say by moonlight
red is black. after
the rain the crimson
crepe myrtle bleeds droplets
of rarest jet.

mab

phantom in black taffeta
silver moons for eyes
she walks

lithe and swank of flank
o'er a minefield of frogs.

new moon in cancer

beyond the moth-light
night-boughs drip yesterday's rain.
midnight illumination: black
as a snuffed candle-wick.

hummingbird tavern

burnt tangerine,
the bloom of our trumpet vine:
a bright canticle to summer!

an indifferent gravity

like the iris
                    of a camera lens
      my star gate opened its portal
      & i fell
                     into the womb
of a great orchid,
                           
               where I could hear
               the beating of its heart.

dark motion

rapscallion moon in a burlap sack,
pompeii's head swings low
like poe's pendulum.

nothing zen here

flame haired ambrose glared at the compost hill
deep in the hickory woods, angry wild boy!
swill and slop in raucous fermentation,
its rich gas could give a blue-bottle fly
vertigo!

jimson talk

candy boy ames had a big brown toe,
a gnarly thing with a big red
Band-Aid,
                   foot propped on a wicker
                   ottoman
where the cooler sat full of lone star.

could play eagle bone whistle
to charm blue
                         armadillos
                         from the tall mesquite.

now, that's a dang lie, son!

night music

crescent moon sings
louder
than cicada!

incision

gashouse girl kohl green eyes
coal dust on her nose
limelight absinthe breasts
shown for a shilling
in whitechapel
under dim lamp
waiting for right man
a gentleman

java birds

sunday morning java queen
     (first in line at sleepy sugar-eyed
            espresso aisle) is camping
bare wiggly-toed            cyberlinked
beneath lonesome wetnose
             windowpane.
she looks out. what's to see?
       just
               a jade smear
               (douglas fir & sitka pine)
               in softgel focus.
beyond her adzed birch bark silhouette
        i catch sight of a two-lane asphalt
        totem trail. so
        i split infinities.
her rucksack is full of essential
        lord's day stuff (kropotkin's
        "mutual aid, or, maybe julia
                kristeva & sylvia plath)
        in case of sudden apocalypse.
we share this vigil      isolated
                                   within our laptop
                                   realms.
as the mill wheel of café life
          begins to hum
          with the hypertension
          of henry adam's dynamo
she rises for a refill & hiphugger jeans
          swish
                      across the blond
                      hardwood floor
          like a paisley dream.
          belly-bold tank-top
          rides up & a tummy jewel winks
          coded semaphore
                       to me alone
          in the florescent wendigo
          ghostlight.
arms like cinnamon sticks
          flex knotty little biceps,
          girded with snake tattoos--
her hair (jet angel pasta) shifts
         perpetually
         in her wake.
         she hesitates. turns. takes note
         of me.
                     a blackberry gaze
                     whispers an ancient
                     riddle.
      hello, old man,
      why have you followed me
                      through the ages?

geneses

after the apple
     eve
             felt the full weight
             of the serpent,
almost too much to abide.

behind creation's
       perfect shrub
lilith's cruel laughter
       sounded like a braying
            ass.
       

off the porch

rain sluicing through pitch sky
i walk out with a nosebleed
(they say it augers prophecy)
frogs chitter like ragtime
endmen in black face
wet and cold

dark communion

slip your hand
into the black glove
of night
& listen to her moan.

melissa

green bees in the golden grass
coat my lover's toes
with heaven's mythical honey!

midsummer

warm with essence of rain
the breeze sighs like a woman's
breath wafting through the vineyard
of votive fruit.