I started the day with shit attitude,
watching sunlight
through sheets hung
like curtains,
feeling as if I had this would be life –

and I knew how things changed
time moved forward,
just as I knew
that I wanted to believe
I was the only one
covered in denim
and faded under a summer’s sky

but I listened
with half-cocked ears
hearing only every other word
from cabbie’s mouth

A good while back I bought some land
which consisted of a rural hollow
forested by mixed hardwood stand
surrounded by two fields grown fallow.

This hollow housed a clear strong spring
years ago used as a water source
evidenced by a collapsed cistern's ring
which began the branch's course.

And here I built a modest home
on an adjacent overlooking hill
where children would have room to roam
far off the road where woods were still.

Evening sighs
seducing my warm latte summer skin
fragrant dreams dance
floating ribbons through pink grapefruit sky.
Honey hued eyes gleam
in the moonglow
my strawberry lips surrender
sweet nectar that drips off your tongue.
Waves of delight melt into steaming sand
as cotton candy foam
I drink in your laughter
light as a sparkling lemonade breeze.

Bad luck decorates her branches
flashing on and off like
strings of lights on a christmas tree.

Misfortune glows
as if fueled by noonday sun
under cloudless sky.

Each day she longs
for someone who might notice,
turn some switch,
dim the lights, pull a plug, and
diminish her pain. No hero
lurks nearby on prancing steed.

Don’t filaments fray,
bulbs burn out
and fail to ignite
one more time?

Contortion of a warped treain of thought,
vocabulary articulated with diction,
colloquial argot.

Lexicon of the abstract and abstruse,
conception of an illusion.
Manipulating consciousness.

Vociferous articulating of intense emotion,
or inaudible machinations of a warped mind.
Halcyon conversation.

Language is my passion

I've barked at the moon before
when it likely weren't my time,

I've supped with the likes of fools
and felt completely sublime;

I wish that I could write, right now
something that'd inspire, awe;

or cause my reader to be left
nearly standing on his own jaw.

Today, my focus is "dribble"
it's such a daunting task,

I think I covered this before
someone really aught to ask.

In the in-between-time
at the risk of sounding, dense;

I love the man who
angrily cut out my tongue.
Blessed is this silence.

sitting watching
valley veil
the warmth
on me
the cool
the shade
collects

I keep these moments
like pages
outlined with my thoughts

I stare in depth
and distance
diluting

all the pretty pain
folded like a worn knife
I take in rain
patterned dark

how In love
at arms length
you mean

my shadow fills

Question Of Survival
part I

inconsequential thoughts
roamed randomly through her head.
too weary was she to concentrate
on the uncaring things he'd said.

selfish and insensitive
when he was high on coke.
he was like a stranger,
so easy to provoke.

When he laid his hands on her,
it was a tumble of the dice,
whether he'd bruise her skin
or touch of heaven's slice.

looking down at empty hands
void and unfulfilled
hopes and dreams lost
to abandoned thoughts

eyes turn up toward the sky
a scream of anguish is hurdled
as angels look down
and wonder why

a sound of thunder is heard
not the answer expected
for the question
which was applied

a sudden stab
as if a heart attack
while pain strums on strings
of a battered heart

another loss, there is no wayside
where you can fall
a yoke is carried like a torch
and time is vast like space