pacing for angles: track photographer
posed stationary in her depth of field
dancing with light, (life's choreographer)
crow-footed storylines airbrush concealed
motorized aperture magnified yield
fingers fluttered and shuttered in burst mode
closure, exposure; images revealed
dateless lithium batteries corrode
overpressurized high-def-cams explode
kept my eyes peeled through foggy viewfinder
color-coded overload episode
red-flashings serve as gentle reminder
framework friends/ artists with both lens and pens

His eyes look as they have for years
bright, though with the barest haze,
I've never seen them wet with tears
while time ground its relentless gears.

And we've shared a near lifetime
filled with ups as well as downs
from almost youth on through our prime
stolen as surely as a crime,

I see those aging eyes today
as I stand with him to say goodbye.
Those eyes once green now tending grey
as we see his life's love on her way.

He looks from hole to sky then pain
makes tears fall like a soft rain.

My thoughts are my thoughts
or am I dreaming
are these my thoughts
or yours
I don't know still

does our mind ever read
other's thoughts
I don't know
but do not instil

yet my thoughts resound
and
rebound
the voice of many
are these thoughts
of any use to any

but without these
one can't convey
what's hidden
beneath the surf of stress
the mind's domain

but one must be re- assured
that thoughts alone live down
memory’s lane

Socrates, the man, was old, his voice frail,
Though his wit was sharp as steel;
Battle scarred from three campaigns
Using the short sword,
A poor husband it was said.
He owned at least three slaves
And known to have walked with a limp.

He struck at the imperial chambers
By declaring himself a fool,
And everyone else too.
Convicted by his fellows
To either die, or go away
Far into the desert of exile,
He chose to challenge the gods
To see what was behind the oracle.

darkness falls from night
I am still here waiting
after you are gone
azure veined seraphim
i think of you through this long season of my life
like swallowed ivories

you always said you did death best
and haven't made a gasp since
laid out in the field face down
my grey goddess of the wan sinless moon
smiling vacant
mud mandible
tempest that beats the grass

are you here
shrouded wave
is the wind your voice?

Sometimes I don’t want sex

The moonlight
Upon
White oak leaves

The nightingale’s
Midnight serenade

The passerine’s sigh
In bed
At first light

The scent
Of library books

That a hundred or more
Have turned with
The tips of their fingers

Walking the city streets
And seeing hair colored
Black or red
Purple or blue

Spiky
Or curled
Or draping down

The twirl of a chiffon dress
Or an umbrella
In the wind

Angels fly
With beauty and grace
I could tell you are one
By the joy radiating from your face

You have always been my guardian
Protecting me on piers above
An advocate for peace
A soaring dove

You are the sun
Brightening my day
You can not protect me from all evil
But you try anyway

I wish my poetry was more recherche,

full of arcane images swirling
and twirling in a rhetorical blur
brimming with esoteric references
from yonder and yore.

wow, that would be so cool.

I'd wear corduroy jackets
with those elegant patches,
horned rim glasses,
and a stylish European chapeau,
for just a touch of class

I'd be the dopest of the dapper
and righteously snarky,
chock-full of myself
and certifiable...I mean certified
by peers in academia
and the New York Times.

The mirror is dormant
Chipped paints and oil gears
Wind under the planchette

Mr. Potato Head's nose sprouts
The most curious vegetation;
green cells and black olives
It is displeasing.

The magician undoes
the mirror in noir sacraments,
blue light and broken bird hymns,
the spine a flute used by a man
cutting through batteries, and who
puts toxic avenger goo in his tea.

Deliciously sweet the
taste of heaven on my lips
is what I felt the moment we kissed.
O how I crave and how I miss
the sweet warmth
of your tenderness
of your bodies bliss
Love awakened by a kiss
It is love I seek in your eyes
reflecting the love from
deep inside.
I await anxiously
to coincide
with your every step and stride
mentally we are side by side
I am yours I have no pride
No other force can divide
the love between us
only multiplies