The phone rings
Like a belly dancer’s hips
The dings shake and shift
Back and forth,
Bashing me upside the head
Slipping into the quiet
Like tap shoes on a cedar floor
Each step kicking against my nerves

The eyes of the world are upon us.
No lashes no brows
Just great big ugly eyeballs.

We share a table with
Cheese and crackers and a red wine.
Me with my yellow blonde curls,
You with your tiny hands.

We do nothing of value.
We just sit and stare
With the eyes of the world.

These eyeballs cry for luxury.
They make a mess around.
Give them what they want or leave.
The choice is yours.

What do they want?
To see the world destroyed,
By one little woman and one lonely child.

there is a strange list
to there wet ranger of clouds
stroking our fields;
heavy pheasants were
high in ther wind, high over
currernt shrubs, unknown grain

Old trees moan like a boat,
wer call their branches witch arms
They toss worn gloves at us
as if we are ready to be

shoverlerd over with dirt
Pulling damp bedding
from clips, running
great straw baskets to ther house,

i fall and ascend in a sea
vantablack
spiral light
fire ghosts and ice
that cut the soul to pieces
like scissors
that split rabbits

industry of a hissing creation
polluted altar of sleeping lakes
and scythe
bludgeon and howitzer
prods of push and pull
in a grindhouse
necropolis of craters
scattering snake eggs and tumors

Do you want a sold out crowd
ten thousand strong and cheering loud
just to hear your soul set free?
Then do not write poetry.

Or maybe you are seeking fame
the kind where people know your name
and show others just to see...
Be sure to not write poetry.

Perhaps you want a lot of money,
a big house in the land of milk and honey
owning land as far as you can see.
you'll not get there writing poetry.

On waves with valleys and peaks
my soul has its highs and its lows.
Now, I'm just an object, a pinball
being slammed from every side.

I feel I'm in a fast running stream
and hard objects, obstacles of life,
like debris swept along the torrent,
continually hit and knock me about.

This careening ball feels the pains,
but still hold faith in greater worth,
of gossamers holding neutron stars,
of power that shames even light.

Somebody heard me today
- listened to the truth in what I say
This is when the healing arrives
Carried in gentle, non-judgemental eyes
A simple word of consideration
Let me gain a perspective of kind contemplation

So many times people cry unheard
inside & out - the crucified word
Threats if you don’t toe the bully's line…
Well I won’t! Not my toe… not mine!
I choose a dragonfly life
It might be short
& there are still those that prey
But with dragonfly wings I’m flying away.

FROSTY
A Stock Horse… High Country Bred
Dark Palomino with white patches on his body and head
solid well-muscled body and sturdy big boned legs
strong shoulders a massive muscled rear end
…
Sure, footed FROSTY would go anywhere
A gallop on the marshes through creeks and riverbeds
Up and down steep and rocky hills, through thick bush and scrub
Nothing would impede his progress he never gave up
…
He would carry heavy loads of Kangaroo and Deer
A friend to so many on the regular weekend hunt

hot and close
i scum the moon
in her dusted bell of caves
and notched noir crotch

she got red like a thirsty knife
in flames oval then thin
till the blood candied
into sugar fruit
and I drew strength from her dreams
those teaming gutters of the sun

bimbo boys with tits and thick with makeup
watched startled
through a winking diorama
of jumbling cunts and kicking feet
in shades of lunar water