IT IS A DAMNING BLOODLESS TIME TO BE ALIVE AND IN LOVE
CHASTIZED
CIRCUMVENTING TURTLE DOVES
AT THE SPEED
OF WAR:
preface this
in a wake of what roves
what undulates beneath the wreaths of painted doors
in front of what should be a door step
a stoop
instead lays the view
from half way down
approaching the abyssal zone

and here we float
an echo in the deep
amongst echoes in the deep
...

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this old couch 
a rested place 
of day dreams :
A sanctum for the spittle of birds 
breaking in with the early dawn. 

and each window, in the winter 
a mouth of frost, 
vignettes of cold rolling thru the glass with ease 

i can feel my breath on my teeth
heating and cooling these tines
tuning truths on a good day 
hoping for just
 white lies on all the rest :
mild discomforts, acid...

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I knew someone that was all torn up about my having people comment on some of my works as a poet, tearfully saying "everyone loves you as you are."

well, no. 
Not everyone does. 
But Id like to think I appreciate the ones that do. 
And as I got older, my tools for sussing out who didn't got sharper 
or maybe im just a likeable person
or maybe I don't fixate on the parts of the world I cann...

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A last letter
Like everything that cut me, deep and true, just follows the same long-dead scars, now -- the underground tunnels of being run thru, over and over again: overfilled with joy, burdened with hate, crippled with fear, twisted by love. 
now there's just a body, and I live with it, and there's a sequence of events that happens to it that are resolved in chronological order. 

what som...

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fog condensed 

percolated upon the brows

of fallen kings: 

that we descended like spiral staircases

wherein every step 

suspicion creaks like bone 

sheathed just-so

 we are unknown

a swath of heads 

taken, cackling in the streets 

bobbing in gutters, downwind and downgrade 

before meeting Death; 

pummeled and pestled 

squashed, pressed into mortar, 

d...

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A truth born of molars: 
people are fickle and their feet will stake them, always, in fairer weather. They do this as our ungulate friends do: grazing from pasture to pasture. 

We re hard-pressed, in life, to find people who move through the action of their eyes, upright and ahead, instead of the idleness of shuffling feet; we are hard-pressed to find people who act on principle instead of out...

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