i will build myself between pages
divide pain into chapters and
fill my hands with rain

arrive at the same place
at the same time each day
as fall fends off winter
i will chase you away

for i should not be afraid of
what makes me shiver under the sun
your name, i will leave in tealeaves
a message at the bottom
of every cup

you will not make me believe
light is illegal, or hope
but i will count the scars
on my tongue

My dearest consort
I have been finding myself more with in the rain.
I can only hold fast and wait for the days of sunshine once again for me here.
Setting and wondering of what tomorrow holds for me. but even the light of day has past.
Grim days flock to my side like snow flakes in the cold winter.

soar
the inertia flow
the wheel turning
shinning at the hub
vortex passage

seated in the cool shade
the garden lush colours
the chains mired to hooks
in the wood slat ceiling
we rock to and fro
while hummingbirds taste
the nectar

up there the black bird
like a dream
caught in a thermal thought
rising stark and in motion

gliding when I dream
leaving this body
this freedom like a wish

Rancour
Bleak
I feel it
Do you?
I value sunsets and sunrises
mountains,
red rocks
and the souls in the eyes of animals.

Yet, rancour, bleak.
We have got better
we no longer hang someone
for the theft of a loaf of bread.

But not good enough,
not by a long way

To stay alive
to have a reason to have children

we must be better.

It seems simple to me
(with an IQ of 180+)
That competition is obsolete
co-operation and balance are survival.

Disagree.

The mocking howl of a lonely bird
Sitting on the tree branch in the yard
Mimicking mama crying out her pains
Overtaken by bugs and being alone

Arthritis, diabetics, hypertension and rheumatism
Her companions and strange bedfellows now
Sickbed, her field of play with excrement and urine
One room, the span of her whole wide world

She was a woman who dared men
That pounced on the helpless and the weak
Men who crossed lines protected by women
And played soccer with guys in novelty matches

do not read this poem
if you're a shrinking violet
do not read this poem
if your cock is hard and
you're looking for a hole to fill,
tough shit

Hey, don't you know it, it's a cold and foggy night?
Cold zombie bodies don't appear, in my low-light sight
Can't see for shit, I'm afraid, and it's oh so quiet
Yeah, you think it's funny... it really is a riot

I wish that it was you out here, I'd like to see you try
I'll bet that you would piss your pants, right before you die
We lost poor Jim Mc Gee about half an hour ago
They just showed up in thousands, all shuffling in a row

A tiny dust devil forms
on the windward side of shorn hay field
in the high heat of mid day
during second week of July

Only betrayed by bits of chaff
barely belt high when born
( and how is that by the way?)
as it randomly staggers
among the heat waver
further
....further
........further
..........into the hot field

BLADE OF GRASS
Never will you see a blade of grass with a sadness of life
But the cold winds that blow against him are the same as you or I
He flows and bends with the greats of ease
For there are no cares in his dance as the wind pushes the tallest tree
And if the coldness of wind can move the tallest of trees
What do you think that single blade of grass has learn to see
That the cold wind will blow against you
No matter how big you are or how small of a life you seem to view

EACH CORNER IS A TURN OF A TURN

Life cannot be equated, without this fact
A straight line, is sill straight
As the direction of straight will constantly
Adjust.

Look both ways before you cross the street

See it has its bends
Feel it has its curves
The joinery of life
Has corners, adjusting the
Turns within turns