When comes the spring, the flowers blush
with every color artists brush,
they call the bees and flies with wing,
the flowers blush when comes the spring.

The pollens pass with peaceful breeze,
then fly away and land in ease,
to start a life in numbers-mass
with peaceful breeze, the pollens pass.

The cycle goes once and again.
More flowers bloom to blaze the plain.
The incense's rich, it feeds the nose
once and again the cycle goes.

obsolescence, left eye pressure
another night sprawled on the worn desk top
the pleasure of freedom and two fisted appeal
seeping away these last 40 years
in days past a woman would wake me
afraid, needing a stiff spine and a steady gun hand
I would've drawn my hands through my thick hair
and sleepily, squint-eyed assessed her, drank
a 12 hour old coffee and bourbon and eased
her fear with steel and gun-metal eyes
with the flip of cosmic switch
no femme fatales left and a bald pate

seeking bluebirds,
those feathery nose tickling
variety of myth,
I board,
in pith and khaki,
a junk van
packed light for flight.
running on hot
rattles of hope
scratched aviators
and a new plastic identity

mirror cracks,
kaleidoscoping
the back-side of motion,
scatter the rain pretty
mud flaps, caked with
the debris of a muddled past
ragged and worn,
fall by the wayside

a hard-nosed cynic
is disappearing

there
ahead
somewhere

In deepest winter yet I walk
among my friends now all stripped bare
as time continues its slow stalk,
that lone hunter we all share,
but he's forgotten on this day.

For I've come here to escape time
as chill winds toss scant clouds about
and outlines puddles with thin rime
in low spots all along my route,
a logging road of frozen clay.

Until I find a favorite spot
a low bluff over middling stream
a place I think by most forgot
a perfect place to sit and dream
to listen to the pine trees sway.

I didn’t mean to hurt you
I swear upon my heart
When he asked if he could walk me home
I knew I wasn’t being smart
He put his arm around me
He started playing with my hair
I told him I had a boyfriend
He told me he didn’t care
You can’t turn back the clock
You can’t go back in time
He was older and so was I
The chance for love had passed us by
There are times I wish I could turn back
Things are so different now
And I want to be the girl I was
But I don’t remember how

I try not to go down memory lane.
The packages there,
I don't want to open them.
It's not like Xmas, when the joy
is seeing joy and it's multiplication.

What hurts is not me.
Behind regrets and hatred
is that silence where no 'other'
is remembered; no 'other'
niggles me with pain.

I lie still and try to be calm,
to rest as if floating
and when the buzz saw outside
intrudes, it's only the builder
next door, making something new.

cirrus flavours
a neon show

beyond the orange dust
taste of dusk

I came to you

the river of wire
the summiits of poles
blanched in their
thoughtful order
shivered in the yellow
lights

the pretty Dodge coupe
sleek as a river
speckled
with rust

take away anger with
a blossoms graze
coloured scarf binding
the burn a torn rib
a ragged filling lung

drenched fingers in prayer
velvet light green
253 radio tuned to
twelve point three

Listen to the silence
Waiting for the key
My ear is tuned to hear you
Your’s to hearing me

Your step is light, most quiet
My eye searching all around
I hear your comfort-voice
Heart-volume at full pound

Work all day anticipating
It doesn’t matter what you say
Zoning out, no content
I’ve been waiting all the day

Home at last from all the horror
The killing and the death
Cheating, lying scum
It stinks, I hold my breath

as we swim in the vastness of the universe supreme
we are an extension of milt …
it so does seem

well for those who want to know
what is milt …
some say
Google it....

well...

it’s the sperm of male fish
spread across the waters
female fish come to bathe in it freely
when some enters..

human beings are also
extensions of fish like existence
so be it some like, fish,
swim along the current
mostly few like electric eel and me
against..

IN MEDIAS RES

I take the moments as they come
and when the moment is kind
I ride the wind in furious flow
as far as my ecstasy will go.

But when the sickness strikes
I no longer have a voice to sing
frozen in fear and desolaton.
I wait pretending
holding on to my soul
as long as I can
until
I start to live
again