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

 

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this is our will

we declare
claim what we want
this is our will
build, create, engineer, refine
spectacular minds ceaseless in dialogues
questioning this universe and beyond
we place ourselves above all living organisms
pontificate our supremacy
other occupiers require too much space
our supernatural right as leaders
entitles
take what we desire
force them into boxes
into dead holes
onto ragged patches

perhaps it is we
who are on the bottom
we who have always been the lowly
we who belong in the corners
if all beasts possessed our human capacity
for thought and reason
they might also destroy
the very home they hunt and graze upon
only those with grand intellectual mindsets
can perpetrate the killing of this planet
lion
art previously published – Prisma on construction paper

kryptonite

sometimes she just gets tired
her little world snags on the edge
it doesn’t want to spin
neither does she
kryptonite sometimes settles across her womb
in the dark where light once lived
a spec of universal magic
slapping weightless color across heaving walls
offers no more portals
and the face present for all
is its most false
on the other side
baby gorilla
baby chimp in prisma on construction paper done a few years back-thank you