little brown tuft
soaking in the rain
sad hibiscus tree is bare
tiny yellow beak pecking at stars
puffing his mottled gray chest the soaking wet wings take rise to nest in solitude deeper in the mountain
Loneliness
roman candle
snow fire light thunder the hummingbird speaks
the peacocks have been here for all time just their beauty royal blue tears
heart desires stretching reaching for infinite nothing it seems
i stare the moon frowns at me a spotlight on my shame most gracious lady my eyes downturn
pain and mystery are beautiful holy at times demonic only at someone else’s pleasure
if He wept at His abandonment who then am i to complain
agonizing rainbow look me in the eyes roses die in mid December
that all of treasure’s soul lays bare the blood not on the spear this time but splattered all to see
that a twisted existence didn’t always weave and the past a few exceptions made
that leads me to this Maypole game where spirit and soul are sewn into the coat of many colors
to light the sky in flames of glory and my spark to soar on angels’ arms
for Hunter S
dust bowl widow
wind warm cheeks
to the sun
dust is golden
trees so distant
tents quiver softly
epoch in her
eyes tell me
how life was
simpler in love
carnations are pink
in my kitchen calico lady cat yawns at the sunny rays piercing the window
she don’t like tuna a real nut job of a cat
my coffee’s ready four cubes and half and half we engage eyes the cat and i
she stretches ten feet long including freshly sharpened claws on the leg of the velvet black couch
i concede she’s the queen i drink coffee smokey creamy good i think of a certain lover of long ago
the cat she knows my thoughts i blush a little her pupils broaden at my joyful shame
my memories entwined with coffee steam like my lover’s clumsy breath descending on my bright pink mound
to miss not the sensation but the act of being held for a few moments by a pair of hungry arms
sensing the melancholy seeping in the cat meows at me asking that we share a glance out the window
my carnations had bloomed again after a long blue winter
wine
sweet age she nestles between the folds of my skin
the blurred mirror tells my tales
eyes dark yellow swamp colored crystalline with dew
tears they have emotion encoded through the years
my lips pucker and it’s my grandmother who i see eye brows raised a little my mother stares at me
and when the scrutiny of French soap is through only a jaundiced blush peeks on my face
reminders of past lovers’ livid strikes
youth you silly delirium pills spirits powders and glues substitutes for reality during a time when lies were truths
aged lady time i have always loved you a dumb girl Don Juan begging for you be merciful old girl my bones are soft and wine however fine was rarely a comfort
this hill of mine beloved of Fante and i oh do you remember the sliding down rolling banshees trust fund empties
ah i talk too much i have been dying since Eve’s creation was not being born the original abomination
time please cloak that mirror i don’t want to be trapped in my memory of wiping bloody sorrow from my face and from the face of my mothers
time can i ever forgive myself
speed metal hiidiin buree
early on laying on the warm gray beach with tiny fleas hopping from foam bubble to foam bubble my cheek is tanned by the white ash sun then i see him long black hair chains everywhere eating rice balls and drinking Heineken my thoughts wonder off to speed metal a sea gull zips down to take a piece of Twinkie from my hand the shore it lays tranquil divider of land primordial real estate agent the music in the waves loud clanking slow motion at high speed the Buddha with sun glasses spread out on Venice beach uneasy vibes orient depress let’s chant for new year but awareness comes from remote controls he’s done with rice balls Lama of my dreams Leonard Cohen can you hear me look to the sea my third eye boils my peace upside down hearing the call of awareness while being chained to madness and the singing elephants trample by
a feather
back in the day of orange koolaid and Brady Bunch dreams candy cotton and carburetors diamonds pills and fancy ladies the news and no direct tomorrow TV dinners multiplex sorrows mop top slinky singer crooned in silky voice to the effect of time having no patience but i don’t blame those frigid tocking ticker arms because i’m a slow floating feather from a city bird molting from the Eiffel Tower statue sitting on any trinket shelf on Hollywood boulevard and through the fibers of the strain i struggle float away slowly in a deafening rage tickling the balls of all those who pose to be the royal peacock
longing
on the shore where it is quiet
the people gone for the night
but only the echo of their laughter
tangled up in the ebb and flow of the tides
the foam crackles on the scrumptious sand
my toes drill into the warmth of your shore
a sensualness seeps through the pores of my skin
because that beautiful he moon above me
with glorious pewter rays of light
directs my memories of you
who are of the universe now
i still stand here alone on earth
walking with the sons of Cain
sentenced to miss you exclusively
the twelve golden stars to weep they must
to bear witness of what the polarities
of our world have done to my anemic heart
this land were my feet don’t touch
tell me please what are my charges
will the grains of sand
who lavish in the waters of rebirth
rebuke our love as well
lady Blue release me
to swim about in your sea
and race my soul toward the last sunset
flores
me
staring
silently
at sun flowers
floating in their pot
enjoying golden warmth
while birds chirp a symphony
the heavy heart looking at them
wondering where time went yesterday
my eyes know that i too will wither soon
day at the beach for a city punk
thoughts splintered some sharp others dull and short reports wobble out from flat digital boxes hung from careless walls breath tight or not there at all walking distance from the back to the ground floor books and writing on the walls in the tunnels by the bay ocean blue line thin horizon children grow up and grow into a certain kind of thought me i haven’t grown yet so i color in the sand with tiny sea shells found around my ankles as the tide retreats from me
words less spoken 