My body sweats like a cornered animal–
one in full knowledge of its doom.
Are you mocking me from up there?
Maybe you know, I’m not supposed to be here anymore.
There is a need to escape.
Cross the land bridge before it sinks into oblivion–
like the cornered animal with its inedible bones.
Nothing of value produced, save a pair of usable offspring, one must not appear completely heartless.
I do thank you for calming me this evening.
The wine bottle has poured dry and empty.
Closets are bulging at the seams with meaningless feathers.
The single-bulb, reading lamp is casting shadows longer than my pen.
Whatever my scrawl is this time of night, it is difficult to interpret.
And you, up there mocking me–
allowing me to fantasize over hope and comfort and dreams.
In denial you are, the sureness of a life’s work–
round and round and dumbly satisfied.
Well, how does this move you;
Your starburst shadow against the ceiling, long and lean–spinning, always spinning–
begs for mercy and a final escape it will never realize.
under on top
this is it
that was now
pack pack pack the fucking brain
round the square corners
jump the cycle
break the loop
think outside the box
that was 1990
can’t speak anymore
much of anything
who was that glossy chick with the shiny shoes and the matte business card
baby spit on the shoulder
now dirty sports uniforms
something about files or writing
art no it was art
crap family coming this weekend no next
was there a party I was planning for someone I love
it’s the school thing he needs to be at she told you
what? what was I doing
the studio I was filing my art
away for something
wait I’m in the wrong room
where the hell did I put my studio
there’s no food in the fucking fridge
social-ing on social media isn’t always
walk yourself Mojo
I ain’t got the time
I gotta go drop some books by airplane
I consider my childhood bedroom – my first studio. There at the table is where I pretended to be, Kolchak the Night Stalker. The wall “rainbow” was my first mural. I’d give anything to reclaim my original Breyer horses there on the shelf. My Clairol makeup mirror – geez, I’ll never get that close again to a magnifying mirror with lights, and my little budgie hanging in his little cage – I often let him fly around.
Please pardon, but I’ve been back cleaning old posts. Many I’m not too pleased with, so I’m reworking these older writing pieces while the brain currently in my possession is on vacation.
can’t remember the last time I was in love with earth
witnessing her miraculous gifts
appreciating silent nature
rather than absorbing pixel and pen minutia
stunning my drowsy eyes was this unexpected moment
it was the moon I needed to touch
his large, low gloriously warm pulse in lusty azure
barely cloaked in the fading veil of night
the taffy-stretched shadow of a red sunset maple
stretched across the dark grass
as if she too, desired infinite perfection
stars tucked away in their opaque shells for another night
this was the moon’s moment
I stood frozen
and not for the frost assaulting the holes of old moccasins
I peeked through my eyelashes to capture his light
to practice this magic in my mind
committing him to memory
and why I have the good fortune to breathe
etching my soul with our rehearsed minutes
before anxious society attempts to rub my magic out
racing on all compass lines
I remain in the exact same spot
knowing the sun will wipe him away
my beautiful moon
wish I could tell you
brilliant gentle fingering rays
enticed me from my lazy bed
the dark truth
my Dachshund needed to urinate
I remember now–
I’m honestly in love with earth