artless words

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Barska

Deep inside the crocodile’s dank maw,
we hid our treasure, a currency to happiness–our recompense
A thick-legged serpent with its murder’s row of razor sharp stalacites,
was to keep all predators away
We tossed paper after paper into that steel creature
Spent a lifetime saving gold to travel around the Horn of Africa
Oh, the promises sworn upon our sweating bed
witnessed from above, by a blood red moon
We were to journey by tall sail and broad sea
A pair of golden, umber eyes just below the surface followed our wake
When her reptilian curves broke the wet plain, she leaped on top
The tribal shield slid away from your body
We were to journey by sunfish sail and night sea,
but we drowned in the murky fathoms
While I was dreaming of observing crocodiles in their native habitat,
you turned into a cold-blooded reptile
I am taking what is mine, regardless of your crocodile tears,
as soon as my trembling fingers can punch the Barska keypad code

Croc

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…”

my silly secret

like a blazing stogie dangling from determined lips
all other luminous pricks lured away by post-holiday sales
my eyes navigate the smudged thermal pane
a lone gleaming star outside the milky glass
I must get closer
I’ve got no answers for anyone this year
and more questions for myself with less time to respond
the kitchen slider is an obstinate fucking portal
I remember falling on scabby knees
praying beneath the Northern Star
for wisdom and ‘wiseness’
crying for everything I couldn’t find
and God knows I still look for
the star
storybook glitter brilliant enough to sustain my disbelief another year
pulling at the door handle, dropping f-bombs with each yank to the right
gotta fix the damn slider in 2017
I must get closer
to this sparkling beacon of Christmas birth and glowing yuletide renewal
this year, this year it’s more important than ever
shit, you know I declared the same thing last year
shivering in the dark, I’m standing on my splintered deck
finally nearer to the star
I whisper to her pointing ears, ‘guide us somewhere safe’
we must believe in something more than ourselves
or we will implode upon our self righteousness
I’d pat myself on the back too, if I didn’t hurt my shoulder opening the fucking slider
the pulsing star
limitless hymns composed for her singular brilliance
orbiting existential principles
liquid onyx landscapes and oceanic skies
I lift my watery eyes
my lips smiling with their silly secret
this isn’t the prominent Christmas Star shining brightly 19 degrees above the horizon
it is Venus
she’s the one who lured me to heavenly hopes all those years ago
when I was a child and didn’t know which way was North

wood nymph

 

this holiday let monsters be of fantasy only

crouching behind windshields
squatting behind screens
societal svengalis lurk
unruly wild things pacing clear enclosures
bitter birds choosing not to fly
limitations evaporate
when powered on by false gods
emotional anchors become
looming weights of entitlement
hands grip wheels
steering by fabricated courage

verbal appetites satiated by barbs
served beneath craving fingertips

manipulation expands
a
cracked sea sponge tossed into a violent whirlpool
bytes of malice more sour than sun-baked wine
flow over rims of digital goblets
what happens to some
what happens to us

communicating without the skin of our souls
the flesh of our humility
the forbearance of our hearts
what will become of us
when traveling forward
without
the divinity of pure movement
and humble earth beneath our feet

as this holiday season fast approaches
may we remember
humanity dwells inside
each and every one of us
let monsters be made of fantasy only

Holidragon

Holidragon

inspired this weekend while returning my daughter to college-many crazed people driving the highways-
many crazed drivers on cell phones rushing to cybershop

chiseled stallion manes

a grand canyon
opens upon herself
deliberate in need
a succubus of blazing color
lifted from sunken oyster shells
bewitched by desert suns
he, Bryce
wild stallion manes

chiseled of stone
breaking gravity
powdered blue with atmosphere
tawny bleached

breathless creations
we limited to human-ness
can only admire

skeleton stallion

skeleton stallion

many years ago, I saw the Grand  Canyon and believed her lovely, but I was exceptionally amazed at the unusual beauty of Bryce Canyon, Utah
the background in this sketch is an homage to Bryce

the way home

blue horsesyou blew in from the west
over the mountains
wild
yes, you were
fences knelt down before you
they knew
I didn’t
just how renegade you lived
painted horses tucked in your pockets
winged eagles in your arching limbs
I was
captivated by the movement of you
I was a farmer’s daughter
tending the domesticated
managing the meek
you yanked earth’s carpet from beneath my dusty sandals
my fall excited you
thrill caught the wet corners of your mouth
you kissed my naked feet
we pawed the dry soil with our dancing toes
the mountain’s other side
a mystery to me
you kissed me hard again
squared my trembling shoulders with the heaving sunset
unbound I wanted it all
in one delirious grab
I could have flown away with you
but
their cave-black eyes pressed to mine
like canvas prayers sailing to heaven
wet udder tears, careworn soldiering hooves
they knew not the way home
I did

puppet masters

pear fingersit was a view with a room
a little bed for big people
we went in through an out door
our naked clothing
did nothing to conceal the thread of lies
weaving our blackout curtains
we weren’t supposed to be on stage
(oh)
a fortune cookie approved this union
it was all the validation two horny people needed
it began that way
for us
(lust) no intent of love
it was Paris
(not really)
we didn’t make it there
barely afforded the motel rooms
with bad prints of old fruit
acting French
or at least kissing that way
the only way lovers should kiss
is what got us into trouble
our wet mouths
proffered up Paris
(and trouble)
the kissing was sublime
better than eating Chinese noodles off each other
(we)
fell into the rice vat, lid shut
a bottomless pressure cooker
we required many strings
enough to fabricate thick blackout curtains
more to manipulate the fingered dowels
forcing our daytime mouths into slick sentences
we desperately needed to create a successful act
on this plastic puppeteer stage of ours