Having come from the seas of your storms and decades of disquiet, I step, directionless, on an unmoving Earth. Being tooled for havoc, I despair of knowing what might fill this brazen peace, this wild surcease. [Art: The Ship, by Salvador Dali]


Do not speak of it. Do not see me. Give what you have to give, willing or no, and don’t mind the scars. The remnants of your gown, oft removed, keep us coming back for more. But, in time, you will womb a tree that reaches to Heaven. *** [Art by Zdzislaw Beksinski]


Mister whiskers, curled up in dream. You, in the faded recliner, the motors of your snore like a cheetah’s purr. The TV on mute in blue aquarium light. Outside the window, a borealis of feathering snow. And I, in a sated sigh, put my feet up too. We go gently into that goodnight.


and this day has a nevermind feel the soulful king is full of regret ~hands off~ he knows watch those whispersfor they betray the teabag tumblesin morning mumbles do not touch the lingering cathe’s spiny he’s moonyhe knows, too this boat floats with just a whistle *** [Image: https://pixabay.com/users/dpexcel-5262680/ ]

A murder

A tongue that tastes too wellA throat that thirsts for the whole bath Ears, unstoppered, gate-crashed and ringing,aghast at the brazen yarns Saucer-eyed at the secret shows Heart-throbbed at the wholeness of Om and mute-voiced in prayerful listen [Art by Jamie Heiden]