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]

Out in the cold

Old age is a smarmy being that pushes you from behind, confusing you with multiple choices and dithering doubts. Cutting some strings, and tightening others, it challenges your daring of pain, and wants your attention during sleep. Ah, this life and its just desserts. *** Art by Remedios Varo

The Garden

“I have a hunger” - Those words,spoken in a formal manner,were as stillborn, as heavy as a stonecradled in an apron.And, what does one do with this thing you’ve said-you, who were always the comic,furthest from the dead.Taken aback,in slow shock I cup your hand-not leading you to bed,but into nightfall’s garden.We sup on the... Continue Reading →


and this day has a nevermind feel the soulful king is full of regret~hands off~ he knowswatch those whispersfor they betray the teabag tumblesin morning mumblesdo 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/ ]

Good intentions

Daguerreotype is the day,ancient as I drive. Beside me she is a ghost,and I can't speak to the veil-the closed idiom of her soul. OrI am the ghostand have simply lost the languageto this often-paved way.*** They got into the car just the same, even though this was a frivolous trip. Even though she knew... Continue Reading →

The day before winter

A walk, shortened, in October bluster. Black branches flailing shake off leaves to the bonfire of fall. Escape, they do, in a tumble dry dance. Carpet the catwalks. Stick to the shoes. The future's opaque. Carrying, carrying things. Stumbling towards rest. Knuckles of anxiousness push up, under the jawline. Boxes, unopened these years. A pair... Continue Reading →

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