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a longing

gimme that potato salad with the mustard sauce and the bacon those fried mushrooms with the smell rising mind my big nose pressed flatly against foggy glass approve my flirtatious hands as they make fake feetprints for amusement, in lieu of art, on grey glass in threenight, i will be at this same tall door […]

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glare

Originally posted on Within A Forest Dark:
Boa, Jonathan Kriz, flickr North Carolina summer night at Mama’s, with Jeff playing with the boa as it arcs and stretches toward the chandelier, the sweet scent of mountain laurel wafting through the window, Jeff and I doubled in fits of laughter, high. Mama turning on the light,…

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In flight

Soul-spoken spirit, unbound, in flight. Pineal eye gets a look. Events celestial. Of a hair’s breadth am I, in this filament. Then, a promise warms me like an innocent’s blush. And now this mote understands.

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Cadaverous

In the wrenching spell of nightmare, something cadaverous, phosphorescent on the forest floor. Bleached like a drowned man months missing. Current-carried, caught on some subterranean thing. Tell me it isn’t you. Tell me. Oh, my Son. My life.

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the cane mutiny

As we sat in stuffy waiting, you came by, lady with the cane. Regal in your latter years. And I had a flash dream, unreasoning. You in white apron and slippers, sounding your steps on creaky pine. Your support- a bannister with loose pickets. And you did not rely on it, did you?

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The familiar

Lie in it and when you want sleep seek permission through invention of position and if that’s too feeble then touch-type the words to Lucy sky diamonds or expert texpert choking smokers ah you got segments now wake up too soon too late carry on with fond regret of its absence

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