we’re all a little broken here

not sure where this one manifested from, though I wanted to end this one on a positive note-we do need hope
the gal in the background is a sculpture I made in eleventh grade-I stubbornly didn’t listen to my art teacher and this lady fell apart-too bad

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my spine unfurls

as I wrote this piece, I returned to the clean silence of the woods, like nothing else in the world

winter’s wilding

Out there echoes the brokeness of my situation.
It crashes the house oblivious to the shattering person inside.
The trees how they yield for mercy, begging to be spared.
Helpless are we to save them.
As he was to salvage me.
Agitated currents force unrest below the stones.
Invisible fists lay waste to my sweet plastic pots for spring planting.
The nascent air–bitter instigator of material tears–shoves and pushes into massive tantrums.

Not here.
Thank God, as I can’t take anymore breaking.
Inside, my squatting flesh reverberates with leftover aches.
Old blunders once a spiral of mad air.
Winter’s wilding beyond the anchor of a little brown desk.
Where his feet once rested on my knees.

swirl skating

anthropomorphic animals

four legs four legs on the ground
untainted smooth
inertia bound

there it hides
its hiding there
safe from them
there is nowhere
go stop run
run stop go
from flesh, that flesh
that’s white as snow

must cut away her utility…

when it goes
where it stops
gets trampled underfoot
route unnamed
smudged by earth
man’s untimely soot

must appreciate his underbelly…

polluted vagaries
nest, pack, herd,
colony, turmoil
gaggled words
shrewdness,
heard
the silent sound
tribe, cackle, richness
boom band bound

must reexamine my duel motives…

pride and mob, school and pod
pride and school emergent mob
efforting while in sexual season
sucking up to tainted treason

dissonance parleys the uninformed
murdered the goddamn unicorns
call and alarm all shadows here
their fur hides hide our naked fear
no more, no more, I beg no more
uncork the apple from the boar
knocking, crippling, maturing hell
alarm a shadow, crack the bell

oh, Theodor please help me…

up it stands
on his hands
she be down
on the ground
all replete
on 2 feet
no longer
balking
they are walking
no more
walking
they are talking
walking
talking
when it goes
where it stops
no one knows
oh, but I do

polluted hearts
dirty forms
chatting animals
form the norm

it is never too late, darling…

four legs four legs on the ground
only two now make a sound
earth burnt souls melt in the fold
low bones whisper words foretold…

Interred/change
I couldn’t admit how I adored you
my dead heart must now implore you
so simple back then, my oh my
my Theodor’s eyes in absentia cry
skull-homageI generally don’t attempt rhyme but something grabbed hold of me this morning (perhaps a sprite from last night😉), Animal Farm on the brain while reading youngster Rimbaud’s pain (I admit sadly for the first time)…

Friday-fornicate or post

they say Fridays are good for fornicating but not for posting on Social Media
SM aside
I cannot care
the words pressing against my brain are going to burst my fucking capillaries
if I don’t shoot them out my itchy trigger fingers I’m doomed
torment is attempting to snake up my spine though I adore sidling reptiles
ever since I held that gorgeous velvet albino anaconda in fourth grade
now snakes are endangered too

if it blindsides me in a gallant rush of crimson blood, I’m ready for doomed
no overwhelming fear here
when you have kids you imagine leaping in front of the gun
they live
you don’t
I’m okay with this outcome, this is life
calm collective of a natural or unnatural end
the problem
too many yanking the ripcord at both ends
I’ve know for quite some time about dying
when you live with an elderly person, it makes the idea of un-being easier
my heart has taken on a personality all its own
a tragic character in some romantic play
maybe a comedy
she fades to black, scene four
I’m not depressed
not at all
rather realistic and ready
are we climate warming, are we going Armageddon-style
shit, I guess it’s going to be hot either way
why can’t it be water
I so love swimming
there is nothing like claiming peace underwater

I vote for clean water if still available
don’t want to drown in dirty icecap overflow

Crowns:pastel

knowledge

look there, there is a mountain with its rock sliced away to make room for the road snaking beside it
the path we are cruising across while passing by these mineral laser cuts
college winter break over and back in pursuit of a degree
to obtain a knowledgeable living beyond this education to pay for more roads to go more places and slice more rock
to learn how the mountain with its amended face, was not shaped overnight
to dissect human interest in the history behind this path and others like it
to comprehend the sheer number of minds invested to form things to this very point at this very moment
to appreciate the melding of learned people
some thanking the mountains
some thanking the machines
some thanking both
ultimately, for you to decide, through your knowledge
which sacrifices were worth this trip

Spirit Muralthis was a large wall mural I painted in my son’s room, long since painted over
horse characters from the 2002 animated film Spirit, Stallion of the Cimarron from DreamWorks Studio
“…a spectacular tale about discovering the true hero inside you…”

walk away from it all

walk away from it all
we could
you and I
me and you
get the hell out
from the open cell we imprison ourselves in
on knees begging for peace
craning sore necks to fix our eyes between the bars
where we covet the sun
and allow moonglow to paint romantic prison garb across our shoulders
except it’s not passionate, it’s depressing
peace should be easy
as easy as wild blackbent thriving on a prairie
but we over-complicate it
we over-complicate love
it’s all this place needs to shine
easier than switchgrass exploding during warm season
but we can’t because we seem to enjoy the drama of ourselves
and we are thickly dramatic, aren’t we
you and I
me and you
craving eyes more often to desire than to implore
what if we woke up outside our mirrored boxes
and spent one day, sunrise to sunset, watching the grass grow
inhaling saltwater calm on sanded breeze
caressing a possibility of new growth nurtured by common good
God, we could do it
take complicated out of the equation
practice peace and love until our seeds fall from the sky
like cool rain saturating a burning planet
simple, simple harmony

or
we could just walk away from it all
you and I
me and you
ignore the dust kicking up behind our cracked heels
dry grass stalks dangling from our mouths
and fake smile ’til our lips bleed

Earth's Angel

Earth’s Angel

earth tomorrow

 back ally voices rise up from dark corners
let the cave of swallows empty

sun breached chords stroking notes
melodies mottle across the landscape
unclear to deaf ears
voices can scissor the future
dense green forests cut into ribbons
let not the rusted refuse stain the plains
rock the mountains
there can be no life without
water
let it shape new rivers
feed the world
blacken the soil to harvest full

tomorrow, tomorrow
earth
tomorrow
babydetail from a piece painted long ago on canvas sheet