Tuesday, December 9

Sunrise

 SUNRISE
Legends told in rising suns hear nightingales cry in the dawn;
The backbones of surrounding hills release themselves in shuddering yawns.

Blood of ages sear the sky as sweeping sand dunes glitter gold;
Eyes of strangers soak up light and reflect yearnings young and old.

In the distance, mountains merge with hazes gray and frosted stone;
There is no mem’ry in any age of stealing the story for one’s own.
http://allswalls.com/?module=images&act=downloadResize&file=sunrise-landscapes-wallpaper-1.jpg&x=3360x2100&y=

Friday, December 5

Pea Pod

PEA POD
‘Tis true, ‘tis true,
I’m not sure what to do.
My brain has turned
To a puddle of goo.
Oh why do such things
Pester me?
It seems I’m a pod
Without a pea!
https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRMdq0U6RzVe-lVvBSuoQdC4PoP3gWphH9y9VJUttGARZJlzQCsqA

Monday, December 1

Milk and Cream

MILK AND CREAM
you frighten me, you small hard thing
hand-in-hand so secret press
you all soft and comforting
feathers, wool, and cotton dressed

you idiot, you thing sublime
freckles, ink, and form insane
conversation turpentine
always belching, singing, playing

you in my brain, you rooted firm
and stars and light make foreign dream
nothing happens dizzy worm
grinds me into milk and cream
http://genk2.vcmedia.vn/N0WoyYblO3QdmZFKPMtKnadHAHTevz/Image/2013/01/nhin-bang-1-nao-65a03.jpg



Wednesday, November 26

Navigator

NAVIGATOR
Fly, navigator.
This course draws demons.
White blinded-ness
Traces jagged edges of once-lovely things.
Windows reveal windows and
Doors conceal doors;
Faster the time moves
Beyond this twilit zone.
Stunned, we stand paralyzed.
Watchers wait behind the blinds.
http://bogleech.com/scrapbook/fotn-max.jpg

Monday, November 24

Golden Calf

GOLDEN CALF
Such softness in the morning
A memory in motion
Golden calf in gentle posture
We watch with filmy eyes

Sweet sighs forever forming
A secret, special notion
To our hearts we’re hostage
In violet hue we lie

This pleasure brings no warning
Mélange of precious potion
The ache but serves to foster
Worshiped idols in the sky
http://pic.pimg.tw/luciapu/1394196105-3390665945.jpg

Saturday, November 22

Little Girl Lost



LITTLE GIRL LOST
Lost
She wanders
Skeletons drifting
Moss soft under feet
Bare and beautiful , dutiful thing
Times once were for girls
Like her

Lost
She hungers
Swift lupine limbs
Fulgent orbs ravenous
Furtive under firs, no sirs yes sirs
Pedestals in place for girls
Like her

Lost
She quails
Doe-y dewy one
Moon shell trembling
Beneath cloudy seas, naked knees
No one left to hunt girls
Like her
https://tintadedos.files.wordpress.com/2016/01/ve-con-dulzura.jpg?w=614


Thursday, November 20

The Din



THE DIN
Waiting in the kitchen
For the thing
That you bring
Can’t imagine darker fiction
Than the
Frantic string
Where the dust-collecting
Neverbes
On filthy wings
Must indulge whatever lives
In spite of
Everything

I suspect that you might notice
Tender skin
Stretching thin
Here, let’s play both host and hostess
To our
Weirdest whims
Watch the windows, we grow
Curious, it
Draws all in
Heat and rushing, faces flushing
Drowning out
The din
http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2012/07/23/article-0-005406AD00000258-448_634x401.jpg

Tuesday, November 18

Something Stolen

SOMETHING STOLEN
Something stolen, wanted stealing,
Fired in a furnaced feeling
Compliments to detriments and
Things distasteful now appealing

Movement hesitant at first
Temeritous and brave it bursts
And fears of tears and other years
Challenged now to do their worst

Confessions flash prevarications
Take on all sweet complications
Breathe, pause, pulse and back again
To play out all the variations

They thought this, and he thought they
Such forests where we lose our way
Now love, now lost, now shadow play
And strangers do our hearts convey
https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/3LW3-wGKkHpq5PXEBypwDX7ykagrPc6G4WoiF54VlPwgB2OMoMpl2hgqCQe9shOXM5CrAA=s113

Thursday, November 13

Little Clara

LITTLE CLARA
You’ve one foot in the grave, little Clara, little dear;
You have to take great care, be aware, do you hear?
You’re far too young to leave and bereave those who care,
So pinch your nose and slap your cheeks to get some color there.

But mother, I care not for the suns of this world.
My one foot in the grave now has more fun than any girl.
It dances with the black beetles scutting to and fro
And I cannot think of any cause to stay instead of go.

My sweetest chick, your arms grow limp, your eyes sink to pools.
Your skin is thin as paper and you look a fearsome ghoul.
Come back to us, don’t languish there upon your bed!
Don’t wallow any longer or you’ll soon be dead.

Oh mother, all the skeletons, they count my toes!
And it tickles like the greenest grass that ever grows.
What funhouse waits for me beneath the earth and stone?
I want it now; I cannot wait until I’ve grown.

Foolish child! Your whims are sins; you love not those
Who’ve upended all their lives to shape the end you chose.
Your days turn night; your soul takes flight; I hope you see
That you’ve carved yourself a coffin for eternity.

One foot follows fast the first—mother this is far from worst!—
Now my legs, my trunk, my arms, my fingers one through ten.
Only now remains my head, on the pillow on my bed,
But one tug and there it goes! All my guts and hair and toes
With my bones are dancing jolly in the corpse’s den!
https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/opan502ydHd4IdNGwgmVT2lRyU3bzA6dkSCZBxecIHRO_rOrXk-U18GAnD_iJJ3rV20yDkw=s105

Wednesday, November 12

Red

RED
Carmine, glass as glossy-eyed
The words in tongue slow liquefy

They evanesce, the moving swans,
Bashful as the orb-eyed fawn

In plumose beds, white moving warm
Two love two times twice now perform

Above divine the honeyed sweet
Bright goddesses in alate fleet

And red their jewels, and red their hearts,
And red the product of their art
https://0.s3.envato.com/files/219105744/Untitled-1.jpg

Friday, November 7

Memento Mori

MEMENTO MORI
I remember your black, your small darlings,
Soft, how soft, and gentle in distant hours
Buttons adjusted, bibs aligned, fingers
Comb posthumous hair, preen the feathers of
Wee birds in the nestles of weeping arms

Artful dodgers, cold as clay, or the
Porcelain destitution of a warm thing, once.
Sought succor against your stiffening spine,
Requited the anguish with repelled caress
Fought terror, felt it everywhere, waned lovely thing

Babes in veils, stolid next to the others, mothers
Forcing mirth, shuddering other-birthed, trying
Every hair-tickled breath not to whimper, breathe
. . . hues of truth hide, though what
Twinkly gray shades show, the moribund decries.
https://photos.smugmug.com/Archaeology/Archaeological-Imagination/i-QzKX383/0/ecfa1e6b/S/Memento-Mori003-Edit-2-S.jpg

Thursday, November 6

Fortuna

FORTUNA
Fortuna smiles on unknown heads,
her eye of jewel glints down
from towers of cloud, angelic beds

where winged beings can't help but frown.
What fools are men whose grievance
lies in seeing others in golden crowns

while round the room in broken credence
dance our sullen little demons.
We dally in self-righteous deviance

expecting the goddess gift past reason,
and when in disappointment, tears are shed
we curse the garden that once was Eden.
http://s3.thingpic.com/images/6G/352LFppr1NgKkib8x3yJCQke.jpeg

Friday, October 31

Turniphead

TURNIPHEAD
Turniphead, it calls itself, when names are worth
Something, dumb thing, its eyes dawdle, grin goggles,
Filthy earth-birthed thing.

Turniphead, he calls it, the one who fears it, cheers
Himself secretly with morbid musings, sick-wit choosings,
Never normal, not this one.

Turniphead, they call him, idiot tongue lolling about,
Without a brain, an empty head, so long been dead,
Still, crisp crunch inside.

Turniphead, it marks their words, stores them away
Where half-thoughts play, where half-made things
Wait for the right day.
http://k30.kn3.net/taringa/E/F/4/4/8/2/joseoni24/B50.jpg

Thursday, October 30

Time is Ticking



 TIME IS TICKING
Time is ticking, trickling, trickinG,
Inward, outward, driving, driveN
Makes of mortals origamI
Endless wine we can’t but drinK
Into clocks tocks epiplectiC
Stir the seconds, splash graffitI
Tempt the vast miasmic poT
Into out of unkind hourS
Climb the fools in bright confettI
Kicking, angry, and naivE
Inmates to our inner gleaM
Now as curling nautilI
Give over moments to defeaT
http://img12.deviantart.net/47c8/i/2009/026/8/e/spooky_clock_by_reitanna_seishin.jpg