I Am Caught

The fade is on fire the braid is on the head

of mine as I brush it out

it gets caught

I tried to revive it

like ant hills crawling up a piece of yarn

Refreshed

Refreshed in the breaking dam of my soul uncurled restless river spinning like wrought cast iron

handles spin, rusted but worn smooth canyon

how I love thee--Damn, OK, got you.

Take my knee my hand my fist

wrap it up in an angry kiss didn't you know

poison and perpetual motion go

hand in hand to the medicine land

where rabbits run to and fro

baby zebras zipping across the plains

chased by lions

once again you know

I held you in mind

half twisted like that wrought cast iron

a tiny flower peeking through the gates

stop don't make me wait

there's a giant river a waterfall about to fall over the edge

I'm in a raft

a small thing

a tiny kitten

a ball of string

fling me into Niagra Falls, baby.

Continuum

What is this business of excuses

of rainmakers and tidally winks

Lincoln Logs and Fred Flintstone

Red coats from Britain

and the long suffering narrator/

What is this business of ruffians

pirate plotting goose neck hobos

dream stopping kill switch gobstoppers

what is this renegade reaching

sorcerer continuum.

Restitution, Superstition, and Mercy Walk Into a Bar...

 8:59 PM

When Restitution's weary legs are bowed, and Superstition's wounded whispers call,

the blank checks that Mercy writes are uncashed, ten grizzly bears are growling in my hall.

Here all the polar opposites attract: becomes Gray: playing, spinning yin and yang 

between the Dusk and breaking light of Day:

Here I try but cannot tell the change slips. 

In Poetry, I'll hide from icy winds which blow through my thin coat and leave a chill.

I'll find the summertime inside my mind and reconnect with Dreams of my Free Will. 

Ode to Life Coach Scam

Earn a living helping others believe

in the spirit of their syrupy soul

when their pain departs and they start to grieve

the pits of cherries left inside their bowl

As you look at your million dollar hem

and listen to their sob stories all day

for you know the fault only lies with them

you take their money then you go away

The Mumbling Thief

The bones inside my hand are turning loose

like horses in their pens unblocked released

rushing mad rampant tidal wave to truth

and laughing like a secret mumbling thief

I grab for the phone to dial a call

a curtain lifting off the veil shroud

to see myself as I can know it all

beyond what's traditionally allowed

I will learn the jazz, the jones, the hot meat

and sweat inside a tiny club with lights

the neon plate of silence that I eat

the just dessert between the horse and hype

St. Therese is Stoned

 If power lines could run across the moon--that's the phrase which is steering all of this as it's correct iambic pentameter (and a good line if I do say so myself).

The prostitutes and rosaries align

unhitched from their strings, rolling through the night

the silhouettes of cigarettes and gin

reflecting in the ugly neon light

The hounds of Baskerville run through the fog

he tightens the black tie around his neck

the lipstick on the collar of the dog

the hand around the fattened rooster's neck

Behind the tall Cathedrals peeking through

Forgiveness rushing like a waterfall

the stained glass windows streaming azure blue

and St. Therese is stoned among it all

The sliver of blue sky I dare to cut

Like Miro with scissors lying on the bed

To create beauty from oh, God knows what

(Not the best but there's some rhythm to certain lines)

The Sky Itself

If thinking men lay just beneath the sun

with gods above and demons down below

The hot air balloon rises just for fun

just underneath the beak of the black crow--

It soars like an old witch across the moon

that stretched pale skin is scarred from wall to wall

below is the reflection of the spoon

The mirror lake, I see the crystal ball

The neon light is hanging in the night

The sky itself seems to be taking flight.

My Silent Final Wish

If ribbons and the mermaids stopped to rise

where Poseidon stops to overlook the waves

and misfits wrapped in cellophane agreed

that seaweed was the currency of fish

Then I would want the clocks to all strike twelve

so I could make my silent final wish.

Mane

A dim light shines from the street light 

it has been covered by foggy glass

a dim moment shines in my heart

some memory of yesterday

it has been covered by the soot of a fire

I held the flame in my hand

I held the flame

long time coming

in the rain

oh train, gain, sane, mane.

Apples

The apples which I've been cracking haven't been through the smoke and haze lately

why not procure a cherry bomb and throw it

don't ask--it's a dumpster fire inside of a structure fire

being hurled out the window

with an old piano

and crashing into a pit of flames.