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Friday, June 5, 2015


With Point

yellow canary
purple prose
once walked
walked on the
richness of a
disarming dream.
old inertia - old delays
of clouds flowing backwards
into my brain
fanciful colors of lucidity
an art of trope
saints of murders
murders of the soul
a blunt shovel of words
lay there cool with you
and me
candor in my soul
like a dead bird
on a black street
vile but free
maybe i am
earth caught under
the quiet pound of your
plagued foot
or a voice that leaves a
visceral ache
covering lies
lies listless on a barren cot
stale and staring with
ten thousand eyes
veering through one
one masked vein
direct hunger of fresh meat
at best your flesh
flesh lost to a skeleton on
which your story is hung
a story which never really
seems real to me


Tuesday, February 17, 2015


Within a Life

Flesh trapped in  
(we try to kiss)
the reality of
one past life
built a kingdom
in the form of a mask,
painted over the tenderness
of pink flesh
a masquerade to lie behind.
Feet stuck in the ground
pillars of stubborn stone
erects a statue into
a false forged trust
molding artistically
elemental scavengers
who use innocent skin 
to form a bust.
Unmoved from the
rambling voice
love and such
things like the truth,
faith in mine
high and low pitch
chips and blows
thick shells from
the inside out
tears of stone
raining lava bombs
makes me cry
waters the earth
sand and snow
age adds wings
to life of worth

A face looking
through a facade from
the same eyes of the black
A voice on repeat
cracks the mulish,
files down the rumors,
scares away the dust
changes the chemicals
down to one alabaster
of another time
or one's own made up mind. 


Wednesday, February 4, 2015


Metal Body

I know the full moon blooming
deep in the lapis sky
where pearl clouds haze
a metal sea of dark loves,
faith's antiquity carves
lines in an agate soul blooming
into an aged face turning

with eyes closed, sinking
deep into the silent sturdy earth
printed fingers dance over
vibrating fleshy dirt
leaving a universe of dark trails
inside a vast harmonic breath

exhaled in the dark, music found,
one might call it a heart
of white wings
shimmering, humming
a singular song; a voice
as passionate as unseen wind
moving freely inside
an ever changing divinity.


Thursday, January 15, 2015


Air in Motion

in my heart, once two lungs
divided a stone bell,
tolling quakes
interrupt, disintegrates
the passing of so many
beats left behind

at my awakened being side
the strike of your words
the fragrance of your breath

to the song of my perfumed silence
where the noise of your white skin
finds the metallic rhythm of untold meaning

my desires run
beyond the shape of your body
wings, petals, the unfolding valleys

within the existence of time
reeling to the brink of madness
is the sea of salty

vibrating me closer to the vital
stunned dominion
blending me with your tender pneuma


Thursday, January 8, 2015


Capillary Loops 

I feel a granulated scar 
pushed deep in the purple dark
where no compassionate face will see
the contained ripples
of pink tissue holding 
the splattered blood of shame,
the claw of hurt that
plowed down an innocent heart
in the forename of experience.

I see a smile on 
the unfathomable wound
of a ageless face,
the mirror of waters surface
concealing another time of war
mixed into a web of choices,
bones can be broken
by a mind full of salted words.

I watch fingers fondle silver
charms hanging tight
on one linked chain
the chest they sway faint upon
practiced day after day. 

I know discipline locks in the ache,
closed rib cage restricts
secrets that mix hurt 
into what can be seen
in the breaking containment of  
the expanding blue ocean
not with held from
no more or no less pain.