foam

I am soft today, translucent

one of a million bubbles in foam

escaping the surface

uninterested in anything solid

closer to a night sky than a

morning earth

a rising sun from somewhere else

beckons me to speak

but the moon and I are closer now

as reticent as imaginary friends

to the rest of the world

unable to be gathered

(My altered image)

at the door

maybe i’ll hear you

maybe        i won’t

maybe i’ll open the door

maybe i’ll hold it shut

maybe i’ll just

peek through the

peephole,

maybe i’ll slip

a whisper underneath

maybe,

if you’re there

long enough

and i come to

my senses,

i will let you in

and i’ll pull you close

clutching by the waist,

crashing breast to breast

and i will beg you

for forgiveness

and i will confess to you

that

i just didn’t know

siren

flowers by any name

and petals of such

  float over her

thousands of miles away

I am drawn to join her

  calm of tide pool

stir the seas before me

enrage the skies above

  obstacles be damned

I follow the sweetest song

and tempt the Fates

  love-impaled as I am

(Image from mirrorsinner.tumblr.com)

dismal

Death is moping in eerie silence

sulking in an unusual way

  failing to capture

  a soul today

Death has not one hand to hold

nor one to drag away from life

  as boundless Joy

  outwits its might

Death decrepit, sallow and forlorn

as trivial as a droplet in drifting haze

  for even Death

  has dismal days

(Image from pinterest)

covered in eyes

all over my body

I am covered in eyes

that search for you

tirelessly

from every angle

there is no approach

toward me that will

come unnoticed

even the earth

  spinning through its

  days and nights

cannot fool this

elevated vision

each iris adjusting the

anxious pupil

no matter the lack or

abundance of light

I am waiting

eagerly

for warmth under your

sudden sun,

for soothing below your

mellow moon

and to finally rest

these open eyes

one by one

closing comfortably

in your embrace

  my body

(Image “Multiple eyes” by Laura O on saatchiart.com)

an unsent valentine

text me

printed on a

pink candy heart

and the nervous touch

of a hand on a hand

... every drive home

was agony without you

... kinship with the moon

forever halved in darkness

where my love for you

remains

unblemished

and untold

(Image from wallpaperflare.com)

in the hole

her eyes said - I’m empty

  and then

simply looked away

I had a heart full of

  yes poems

if she just would’ve listened

I curse myself up mountains

  stand at the summit

  and usually jump

but this time I stayed grounded

  dug a deep hole

  and buried our bond

(Altered image from funjoelsisrael.com)

chemical heart

and there it is

where it always is

as it always was

  caged, robotic, unthinking

an assumed laborer

chugging away as

undisrupted ambition flows

through the sodium channels

unglue the ephapse

and the rhythms collapse

or worse, inject emotions

and witness the ensuing chaos

and there it is

as metaphor in your hand

dispersed as an agent

of love, hate or change

(Image from fineartamerica.com)

hard

energized by you,

pulsating for you

i close my eyes

and dream of you

reaching...

... first the left hand

with gripping warmth

next, the right hand

below, at the base

sometimes the sharp

edges of fingernails

gliding on the shaft

and pinching the head

the tip gets wet,

a bulb of precum

dripping from the top

streams to your fingers

those pretty fingers,

those beautiful fingers

each the shape

of a separate woman

i love each one of them

as they work together

squeezing ~

pulling ~

rhythmically tugging me ~

i can’t remember

the last breath i took

each one - so deep

each one - so lost

the blood-rush

maximizing length

and girth

your grip tightening,

your stroke speeding up

i have never been harder,

i have never been harder

than this,

than this

right now as you’re making me

so fucking hard,

i’m so fucking hard for you

i can barely hang on,

i can barely... breathe...

i look at you

and you open your

mouth

leaning forward

and the first wave of

breath

and the first lick of

tongue

and the first clutch of

lips

that all fall upon me

brings me to the finish

as i continue to release

you continue to caress,

you continue with kisses

softer

and sweeter

than when this began

my cock adores you,

my cock is strengthened

each time i think of you

wanton woman,

lust-full woman

none of this is possible

without you,

none of it

physically i am spent

but this weakness

is recovery

for the next time we meet,

the next time this ocean

swells within me

it won’t be

a dream

at puddles

look look look at all the

birds pecking at puddles

what little water there is

collected in swales

collected in potholes

and the birds

how they share

what little water is there

just peck pecking away

under sun’s relentless rays

until now, in unison

they up and fly away

a flock of bellies full like

filled balloons into the air

(Image “Spring Thaw - Birds by a Puddle” by garytuckerartist.com)

a lovely pink

monotone belligerence

juxtaposed with the

Autumn evening shade

of pleasance

they don’t make masks

like these in heaven

no, these are forged in

the fires far below

war of one versus one

consuming the liquor of

this frontline frenzy

- adrenaline

stomping through the roses

seeing one among the many

more a lovely pink than red

  perhaps, the one

(Image: pink rose bokeh by Sophie-Y on deviantart.com)

balloons

exhaustion exhaled

into a balloon

that floats away

with all the others

filling the sky

lumpy and elastic

with the world’s

insufferable frustrations

yours and mine

hers and his

theirs and ours

- overhead, swelling

the hawk now hunts

a little closer to the rabbit

the missile recalculates

its arc towards destruction

  the tension is mounting

  for another big bang

  this time

  we all get to see it

and she’s singing

there’s a

slow steam curling up

from the

open bathroom door

to the ceiling

I came home a little early

to surprise her

she’s a nude abstraction

in the fogged mirror

beads of water

heavy with her

drip down the surface

slightly clarifying

- some skin, some hair

and she’s singing

and of all the songs to sing

its Yellow Submarine

 “As we live a life of ease

  Everyone of us has all we need

  Sky of blue and sea of green

  In our yellow submarine”

our lives are not easy

there’s a struggle every day

... we both know it

but she’s having a moment

and she’s totally into it

it stops me

its the cutest fucking thing

she’s so damn sexy

and maybe...    hold on...

I just need a minute

to take this in

the spider and me

I don’t want to kill it

the spider in the corner

it looks lonely

just waiting, and

I know that feeling too

hungry for

a sudden vibration

anything outside this

numb-norm

something to trigger

a response

something I hope

will satisfy

I look with all my

delicate eyes

I monitor all

encroaching behaviors

stimuli surrounding

arousing me

but my body is

softly poised in pause

and so I let it be

the spider and me

still waiting

and still waiting

(l’Araignée qui Pleure: The Crying Spider on exemplore.com)

point of entry (my photos)

intense at the point of entry

mouth under lust and prayer

fingers to lips    both

lush wet and swollen

gliding over   pushing through

i don’t speak, i grunt

you don’t moan, you scream

pray if you want to   but

i would rather you

curse bite and spit

before you say

amen

or thank you

tick tick tick

the bomb tied to

the expectation of love

will detonate in exactly

33,096 hours

anyone and anything

in close proximity to the core

will become collateral damage

all illusions expire

with the loss of time

or self-destruction

the madness ends in peace

... it finds a way

... it always does

higher

limited ego - I as my smaller self

obstructing something higher,

lake that was cut from the Great Ocean’s wealth

rivers that connected, now dry earth

  seeking the voice of intuition to become wiser

  I travel the paths of deep inner nature

  one eye on the goal, body given to the labor

(Image from lonerwolf.com)

concrete

(Image from elements.envato.com)

i feel as though

i am concrete

that meets concrete

that meets concrete

ad infinitum

all grey

different shades

but all grey

nonetheless

i am lullaby born

to nightmare quickly,

innocent joy grown

to set in fright

cold to the touch

solid to the crack

i am concrete

that meets concrete

that meets concrete

ad infinitum

(Image from godinterest.com)

the taken

perhaps

gone is better

retreating

before it becomes

too much

the body is not built

for torture

  soft susceptibility

  porous, passable

and its not easy

changing love from

a noun to a verb

but

there’s a pretty little lake

off the side of the road

somewhere in Georgia

and i would like to be gone

there

and i would like to take 

someone with me

we would read poetry

together

and maybe i would learn

how to put love into

action again

and maybe she would

teach me how to

open back up for

the taking

(My photo)

costumes

walking into the costume closet

deciding which poet to become 

anything is possible

a little girl having tea with dolls

an eagle or a hawk in the sky

donning the clown suit as a fool

as a jester

or the garb of a priest

or the habit of a nun

maybe a killer with a knife

a gun or a bomb

depending on the plan and

the form of escape

perhaps a bartender

exhausted at last call

a mechanic, a hostess

an attorney, a judge

a politician (no thanks)

or the single mom of five

or the deadbeat dad on the run

or the mistress he’s running with

man becomes woman

woman becomes man

human becomes animal

becomes deity

becomes constellation

right now i light a fire

easing back on a log

in the middle of nowhere

i’ve chosen the torn boots

of a backwoodsman and

not to be a poet tonight

instead i’m spending time 

with my friends the stars

and the surrounding wildlife

tomorrow

i’ll add to these boots

a backpack and

a trekking pole

i’ll want to travel

(Image by Peter Philbrick - hoospedro on trekearth.com)