Fruits of love

Seminal Sounds
hush rebounds
a plume of summer
rising from skin,
the place renamed
doles out stifling pittance
A pleasure tree
shakes for me
with winds bore
from remittance
some other one
unclad, chapped
putrefies in wondering silence
Cherub cheeks
unblushed for weeks
a change blows through
from tarnished horns
a mercy act
reclaims with aethering recompense
Published in: on March 17, 2009 at 5:33 pm  Comments (4)  
Tags: , ,

A Dreadful Rendezvous

Oh, disenfranchised speaker
your words leave debris
that whirl around me
undermining the meaning
of the superlative structure
And when I drink in your tincture
I’m mesmerized in the dance
and feel the glaze cast
from someone across the room
I’m always talking in pictures
and you don’t understand
let your blindness feel out
the vision of mad kings,
the patina of memories,
charts of maschismo
ascending beyond deities
Why speak in this bustling room
when a thorned bouquet
can convey
my heart’s labor? 
Published in: on March 17, 2009 at 5:02 pm  Comments (2)  

Pencil Fanged


There is something about clenching a writing tool in my mouth that makes me a more pensive and hurriedly productive writer. There is something about perching a writing tool atop my ear that makes me feel like a sloppy, stressed-out journalist. There is something about putting a writing tool in my hair that makes me all business and no play, but that pencil is well within reach and able to be removed in a hurry. There is something about lacking a writing tool that makes me feel vulnerable.

Published in: on March 13, 2009 at 5:34 pm  Comments (11)  
Tags: , ,

Couch trip

A relationship in its formation
is a battery of tests
to determine the roles
of each partner
there is indulgence
in exploring boundaries
and determining if setting them is just
to give a rise when they’re crossed
So many psychological games
are played cutthroat style
each player trying to clench
the victory for themselves
The two islands, collide
in a mess of laconism
and psychic vibes that get lost
in the retreat of mute desire
But those whose tests
Lead to results, discover,
who has the deed and
who is the property
Out loud they speak
reciting dreams
the mate gives no analysis
but caters any infirm urge
And after some rapturous kindling
the two gratified souls
can observe on the sheets
rorschach blots
Published in: on March 10, 2009 at 8:26 pm  Comments (5)  
Tags: , , ,

Midnight Picnic

I shuffle my feet upon the tracks
in the mighty deflector’s blue light
raking in your thankful solitude
he, gaining my full confession,
disrobing my honesty
my arms outstretched
receiving and offering
swallowing the ambiance
shivering my naked soul
beyond control
into a quilted love
that I spread out
for a midnight picnic
I am entirely soaked by your magic
illuminated, again, at last
until your fading beam
slips away from my skin
like shimmering satin
Published in: on March 10, 2009 at 2:02 pm  Comments (2)  
Tags: , ,

The best part of waking up is…

Some cup of coffee we make-
working ourselves into a fine grind
an intense percolation of concentrated steam
that rises until the lid rattles
each sip, a splash of heat warming our insides
the touch of cream
that makes something gritty more sweet and palpable
swirling around, mixing with the dark
This is the way to best wake.
Juan Valdez can croon at my window
I can inhale the robust aroma
of those oily beans
and suck them clean.
Yes, that’s some cup of coffee we make.
Published in: on March 9, 2009 at 5:06 pm  Comments (4)  
Tags: ,

Once upon a time the amusement park was shut down for repairs

Twas nearly seven years ago
Blue -balled, you left the doc’s
sliced vas defrens in shock
for the longest weekend of my life
Hopped-up, laid-up in your chair
I wrestled my urges, however grand
to let alone your glands
and kissed you hard instead
Monday came, and I still pawed
Tuesday came, “Does it still work?”
Wednesday came, “How bout a jerk?”
Thursday came, and so we did
Cinderella atop the cumbrella
labor-working to extract all the seeds
filled with fairytales and needs
And for so many more sessions ever after
We hurried cups of love
waiting for our wish to be granted
how we sweltered and panted
our way to free rides at our favorite park
Now we joyfully recall
how superb the decision
to welcome that incision
How we celebrate like Harlequin dolls
Published in: on March 5, 2009 at 8:16 pm  Comments (1)  
Tags: , ,

Purging and Regret

Like many, over years I had collected things
bright and shiny, interesting,
some bits obtained on a whim,
items were inherited, or simply given
or perhaps were with me from the start
…until I fell apart
At some point in my discovery
of who I am, of my history
the good, the bad, the worst, the best
I stood back and surveyed the mess
And in paring down the the sizely heap
discarded what I ought to keep
Childhood memories were first
for those were best, I left the cursed
in the heap to dwell upon
for these were where lessons were born
Next I gave up hope because
It always collected static fuzz
Oh, how the clearing made me feel clarity
stripping down to the ‘barren me’.
a representation of what I thought I’d need
ready on the shelf for the very next deed:
my broken heart, aching soul, paranoia, distrust
pain, poetry, indecisiveness, and dust
Those comforting threads and trophies of mine
distinguished who I was at that time
flash forward to now, so plainly I see
what more I’ve discarded and kept within me
But daily I lose things I wish I had kept
I’m confused, my failing memory leaves me bereft
As I wander through thistles and brambles and weeds
Searching for remnants of the former ‘me’
I stumble upon one of my discarded trinkets
Knowing I know it, but just can’t rethink it
The familiar sight would bring back memories for most,
I’m defeated by shock in the undergrowth.



Published in: on March 3, 2009 at 12:26 am  Comments (2)  
Tags: , , ,
%d bloggers like this: