~

Between the Lines
of an Equals Sign

it’s been awhile.
watches galore
and still we never know
how long we have,
time resting
it’s clasped hands
on our soul’s endurance.

the while never lasts
and yet
has always been.

never doesn’t enter
the equation,
is the equation throughout.

we, are it,
the experience
of an equal solution
able to be cut up into
any conceivable fraction.

cast in love
even as we dream up
a figure
less than nothing
and morph through
the mold of endless
formulae
from which to catch
a once in a lifetime
open-hearted
view.

~

Junglistic

air-plants
errant winds
tangled vines
knotty knobs
natty dreads
branches shed
soiled bed
bugs, moss
and fungi

fire cringe
to semi-dry
spanish moss,
the crackle
of burnt moisture
and smokescreen
reminiscent
of mosquito stings
yellow fever
malaria
and immunity
the feel
of standing
in a cloud
and smell
of a fresh
flamed log
engrained
in ashes
blowing kisses
to the moon

~

In Even When Out of
story
line
the
cyclic
question
answering
itself
through
all that
does
& doesn’t
happen

~

even the so-called
manipulation of human motive
naught but the hand of spirit
caressing the moment
in complete harmony with
itself all there is and isn’t
 

~

Womb-Stone

darkness lighting
the candle whose warmth
frosts ice enough
to shiver shavings of snow
and blinks sun
into the growth
of all living beings
while graves flower
and visits occupy
generations
in a solitary
moment’s silence

 ~

Random Muses Dusts the Cover

book leather
like animal hide,
oil, and sun tan
lotion preserving
the inky page
love-&-livable
as bloody flesh

~

one I
taking two eyes
and a mirrored surface
to see itself
yet a single es/sence
to feel itself
all-we-are

~

shoes tap
and horizontal trees floored
creak a makeshift
drum session

~

im/possibly imploded,
sun gathering darkness
into a silent pool
of eloquence
at the tip of a still pen

~

blood-flow
stirring itself hard
to close the wound
while ever soft enough
to tenderly love

~

Fresh from the Garden of Graves
organ-ic
the angel plays hymnals
with its toenails
while newspaper clippings
long fallen
into illegibility
resonate with the pitch
piped
through stain-glassed windows,
jumping beans, seahorses,
and O’d lips blowing breath
across the open mouth
of a bottle
and cooling the milk-hot
the infant doesn’t yet know
it’s cry asks for

   ~

Wind-Song Rocking the Hammock

feel love
and let the love
act-ually move you
to embrace the farthest
reaches of heartfelt friendship
we share like these few whisperings
of inkblood staining a paper thin slice of tree

while the sound of a brush
run through a woman's hair
and a dump-truck horn
accompany the present slip and slide
of perpetual dance into a flock of dove-words
gliding over a field of blindingly beautiful snow

and discovery read by a curious child
on the undersides of upturned stones,

etchings in a tongue untold as if unnoticeable
and yet ever-present throughout every
turn of the page and widened eye
as life's story unfolds
a new pigment
of petal

like love,
enjoy engagement,
stimulate and be stimulated,

our branches
            extending
                     everywhere
    in all directions,

our essence and intimacy
the irresistible that magnetizes
the compass
and guides all of cupid's arrows
to us being together
here like this

~

~

wind for feathers,
the sky is what happens
when I flap my wing.

clouds my lovely snot
and earth my soaked tissue,
sun my contagious smile
and everyone the feel
of my licked tongue,

dare ye plant
and lounge in the shade
of my lunged breath,
the age-old generation of roots
shooting leaf-stars into flight.

~~~

The Mad Rush to Where You’ll Be
Soon as Your Presence Is Needed
waiting as easy/enjoyable
as being alive or stressful/difficult
as beating yourself up
because you think you’ve
something else you ought be doing.

  ~

Floating on Florida Waters
with as well as against
a canvas
of oceanic cumulus thunderheads
cradling an eye blue patch
of afternoon sky,
wings emerging from the body
of pines, oaks, cypresses,
paper, palm & mangrove—
                 a hawk
& some other kind
of smaller blackbird
weave the horizon a fireworks
with their patterns of tandem flight,
barrel-roll like jets
dancing with the joysticks of breath
and reading through each moment
the story of our lives

~~~

All a Big Joke
nothing that ain’t
and all that isn’t
like naught
in the palm
of perpetual presence
felt absent in the self
annihilation of laughter

~

spirit lapping up
the milky
way out there
saucer of beauty
siphoned
from the nipple
of nature
life’s irresistible
getting hot
‘n heavy
petting
and a purr
that just won’t stop
curling the hand
from tail
back to that
selfsame ol’ head again

 ~

Part All
specks
connecting
the dots
of a half-seen whole,
reflection in the glass
the drink drawn
for eyes in drought

~~~

Incurable
naked soul
the costume
that can't
be beat
without
also being
the beater,
beaten
& beating
healed
at the dropped
thought of
needing
a cure

~

Random Muses Parks It
the branch falls.

wood bends
under pressure
whether wind whipped
or strong armed
to the point of breaking
open and showing
what we're made of.

~

tossed, the twig
floats in the stream,
paddle without a canoe

~

flattened clovers
the length
of my body
upon standing,
a twig at mouth level
now bearing a map
of my teeth

~

nothing to teach
or be taught,
nevertheless
friends meet
& mutually learn

~~~

after being hunted, bound,
interrogated & summonsed
for smoking a spliff
in Central Park... :-)

Warranted

though many
in the world
may think us at odds,
you deeming
a species of plant
in my pocket
and lungs unlawful,
and me quite amused
with this lawyerism,
yet this moment
that neither you nor I
will ever be graced
with the opportunity
to appreciate again,
love, even if it seems
the most absurd
of possibilities, trust,
we'll thank each other
with what we share
the rest
of our lives

~

Husky Shepherd Tracks
touching the eyes
with the stroke of a cubist,
snowfall thick enough
to lie down and hear
the rumble of an avalanche,
tears melting
the burial site of a friend
just in time
to save the body
from becoming a bloody
popsicle
with no hope of return
to a warmed heart
save in the dog's mouth
that never tires
of licking itself
with the frenzy
of flesh inspired
salivations
while revealing
the thunder we thought
an avalanche
just the wild thump
of its uncontainably
happy to see you tail.

    - for Rascal

~

Venus

fly eating
the eaten
its feces
unmasking
separation
the conception
of you
without me
as if we
destined lovers
could ever be
lost from
the devotion
of each other’s
unbreakable
heart

~

Street
tires over
the concrete canvas

brushes of unintentional
art
in the action
it’s come by

Busted Lovers
Love with every move,
every move in the presence
of stillness alive & laughing
so hard milk infiltrates
the nostrils & Slimer
wets himself at the sight
of a potential Slimestress.

~