her professor

based in truth

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peace to you

Bell-la

may peace find you this season
merry and bright hearts love one another
compassion in gentle wrapping for all

the ark

snake charmers pecking at malnourished carcasses
bodies strangled in murderous waters
walls so high, mountain steeples flatten
follow the arc of the convenient
the long story is best told aboard travelling vessels
bridging episodic whims
this is where they followed
the writers
two by two
in it for the long journey spanning centuries
creative creatures called to board
before the raging floods of sameness
drown out overweight minds and weak voices
protected in the ark, safe to endure extreme swells
the chosen and their miraculous words survive mankind’s dysfunction
sowing seeds for independent reaping
sun to sun to sun
after earth recovers and swollen rivers recede
writers perished by insignificant waters finally reveal themselves
their dried out bones almost identical

golden horses

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)…

wooden horse

See how the wooden horse enters the scene–
on a silent dolly from stage right it gallops
Do you fancy Montague or Capulet
The show goes on, ending when the star-crossed lovers die
Isn’t that beautiful, how the royal velvet curtains cradle the set
All hand-stitched by Venetian cobblers, who were bored out of their minds–
stringing mandolins with leather shoestrings
The stiff horse has seen better days
Its low-budget cedar ass is splintering
Someone hiding in the pit had to be mindful of costs
The wooden equine doesn’t even belong on this set
The driver missed his cue for Cinderella this morning
In her pink world, no one commits suicide–
except maybe the mice, upon learning they are no longer stallions–
and that their playhouse curtains are a machine-stitched polyblend

animated refuse

this character sketch reminds me of an ornery Shakespearean spirit, I couldn’t tell you why

 

enter the vampire

I have conspired with a literary den-of-thieves to make you desire Them
To entwine your soul in Their stronghold of rampant lust and brute strength
Inescapable wide-eyed innocence will burn away the layers of mistrust
One decadent love bite to draw out your pulsing demons–
those that made your flesh crawl and quiver, long before They arrived
By high mindedness of the amber moon chained by gravity–
I call to sisters across ocean and earth
Fly beyond otherworldly barriers–
keep your diaphanous forms from heaving bound werewolves
I summon, for both your sake and mine
You see, they were born of necessity and likened to mankind’s crucible–
monsters, beasts, leviathans, introverts, extroverts, banshees
Welcome Their rounded limbs to engorge your body with Godlike fear
Wretch you will, over and again until there is nothing to the insides
but your blood
As Her beautiful teeth impale your flesh, you float among the stars
You collapse, the agony of life fades into a dull memory
The tide eventually finds you and we float into the universe
Aren’t they worth dying for…
4-vamps-good

writers and artists I admire

Enchanted am I
when I collapse into your world
Inside, my eyes transfix on silent rhythms 
like nowhere else I know
Lost, my mind vexed
neurons dizzied to orgasmic numbness
I am a journeyman to your will
letters impossibly perfect
imperfectly created
Other petulant muses gnaw on my body–
“I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free”
How these holy demons chew at my flesh
like ravenous dogs might cripple limbs

But you–
you, lure me to my knees
While I can only dream of sweating implements–
my hands wake and are forever empty
Bare pulp is sacrosanct, I touch it and abort
But you–
how you create
bringing new life each time, breathing air where I suffocate
Enchanting are you
Enchanted am I
Crashing wands, frantic waves
pulverize my bound world with freedom
Moonlight too, beguiled at your whim
I gaze at her through midnight glass
as a voyeur with insatiable desire and dark appetite

It is all I have–
imagining your soul pierced to my breast
Then it happens
I am transported
I am transformed
white-vampalienvampire/alien no 3 in my new, fun-for-necks, series

my passion

so many of us wrestling our muses
getting off on the lonely thrill of possibility
safely tucked faraway behind a warm screen
not on the other side of winter’s sheets
the one who will save you from yourself and the spirit who toys with your intent
allowing us to believe and pretend there is something fresh to say
words, nuances in forms uttered as never before
more learned
more experienced
mock my inability
lovers mouth these moments in blind voice
ecstasy where speeches and diatribes are meaningless and sensations are God sent
complex notions suffocate deep in the wrinkles
in the darkness of bright minds lit by isolated hope
books of famous speeches forever bound together gathering dust
like my feet beneath my desk
there is nothing new to speak of
we unintentionally aim to create thoughtless things
passion and peace are not real
they are the pair of cement lions who guard my front porch
where Christmas lights still hang
other than these hardened beasts
peace is man’s inability to calm the ocean
and my passion is in your mind only

Pilate/acrylic

Pilate/acrylic

 

anywhere but down

how can I express myself honestly and still ring the hunchback’s bell
step into the sun with no collective gasp
hide truths in cobwebbed corners while yanking those thick hemp ropes
the ugliness in one’s heart is never to be plucked precisely off
an engorged wood tick on Samson’s skull, hidden deep in his glorious mane
efforts are like force feeding dying cattle, they will produce no more meat
no milk from the teats of their mothers, they lost footing long ago to rot
forget the suffering herds, they passed when the silos were abandoned
and there should be no cheap corn in their stomachs anyway
foreshadowing on the farm, just look at that rooster ’cause it ain’t pointin’ anywhere but down
this is in not a barometer of my particular emotional position
merely words floating in my head that I had to get out

skeleton stallion

skeleton stallion

 

I got your back

he’s broad chested with muscular legs
the earmarks of a pugilist
certainly channels the spirit of one
dark eyes, alert and piercing
we walk together every day
chatting about the weather
guessing what time the mail will arrive
every once in awhile
not far off
we hear a garrulous and bellowing
call of the wild
neither of us are
too wild
(I pray I still am a little)
the deep hoarse sounds are taller than
his six inch to shoulder height
he tosses me up a knowing gaze
he will do what he must to protect
the one who often places him in shadow
on the sunniest of days
gazing down at my little Dachshund
I whisper loudly enough for my words
to enter those flopping velvet ears
“I got your back, Mojo”
I got your back

Dog Kite

Dog Kite

on windy days like today, while walking Mojo, I often imagine him flying up in the air like a little kite – silly graphic created last year