The Storm

Bruise colored clouds extend like a claw from the east—

blinds slowly covering the sun.

Pecks softly play treble melodies on the rooftops and windowpanes—

watering everything to grow.

Gusts howl into the trees as leaves spin off like dandelions—

rushing away from their homes.

Claps and roars through the dense grey—

stirring the quiet ground.

Like a lid closing the pot darkens with sharp shadows sparking—

tears falling frantically.

Yellow knives stab downward without warning—

surging and igniting the night.

Curved streets fill with sky water creating menacing seas—

cars washing off with the tide.

Homes teeter with the ululating waves—

drifting sideways.

Sails extended from porches while Poseidon’s hand swipes them away—

altering their routes.

Most crash, splinters confetti the air, and are seeped into the thick river—

joining the homesick dead.

Only one takes the laming waves, pounding wind, and curt whirlpools—

not being chocked by the hands of time.

The I

I stare at the mirror to see who’s there

a tear in mind finds me seeking a new home

a drone thrown back aimlessly past last

missing cog slogging carelessly with slime

and grim and muck and dull the hull in the

ship was tore by a distance missile

pistol through the chest boom I’m dead

lying instead in bed mouthing names

jump over and nudge

and budge the door a little further so I can

take a peak at your crime

I’m merely a traveller in this play

but I’ll stay till the last audience leaves

those red drapes try to hide the scene

I mean to sit here in this empty place

in case you forget your keys

please let this moment end life

so at least I’ll recall what

it means to live again.

The Room

I can’t settle in this room.

Its paste walls scream her smell and smile.

She’s settled on my neck like a bruise itching with pain.

I hear her voice in other words.

I glanced out the window staring at her moon.

Even with the lights off she haunts me

a figment pixilated in the air

fireflies swarming in shape of stars.

I’ll let my hole remain empty

feeding it will be only a drug.

This room…it pesters me with doubt.

Pricking my back with sharp teeth.

Watching clocks trundle forward

never going back.

She’ll keep her distance in the sky

that North Star guiding wanderers

she doesn’t know if this room is the right place.

It leaks comfort.  It’s a chaining domicile.

How can it possibly contain her energy?

She loves it though

it stirs her and keeps her from feeling lonely.

It keeps calling to her as its spotlight bursts through the night.

She’ll cry without.  She’ll wish it was part of her.

Even a star has trouble seeing any truth

and only surrounded by that endless nothing

can she hear her own heartbeat.

I’ll stay here

rooted deep letting it grow

awaiting till her source lets it blossom again.

I have to believe in that unmovable form

cause’ it’s all we ever live for.

The Beloved

Tumbling waves curl as high as her window, splashing like an overfull wine glass.

Hour hands prick her elbows as she leans and watches from the inside,

How many times has she just stared at the moving reflection?

Beauty stares back at her but she doesn’t see it.

A tension grasps her throat and makes her choke

a salty scratching clawing through her head.     

She can create waves with a stroke of her wrist.  Why.

She washes down the outside, moon, sun, and stars rolling through like a Ferris wheel.

She hates rides.  Hate’s the wait.

She’ll glance at the green gems floating in the ocean below her.

Wailing cauldron of guile replaying “thens”

and smiles and comforts and musings and him. (sad)

Congo drums double beats sweating silently scared.

Only the sky sees her cry.  A sail with no wind.  She wants home.

(love)

Her tears fill the mounting waters biting her ankles.

Airplanes cross, other couples float on their skiffs, and

islands waning over the horizon seem too far to swim.

She doesn’t know how deep this ocean goes.

Fingering the cold spot in her bed.  Letting the headlights wipe the ceiling.

The motors humming all night have become her only friends.

A stone conscious stolid as a statue by a master,

she’ll store her pain to rebuild her mast, hoping to fill him again someday.

The Writer

The green eyed sky opens wide parting the grey mumbling clouds,

rays spray the damp field,

drums force his head into his palm,

sinking, sinking…

(croon something silently)

A jolting shiver rides his leg on hooves,

his knees weep and mourn the cold,

dearth warmth as slumber assails the eye,

pallid letters drip off his pages,

the dots deviate from his lines,

hallow words escape his teeth,

his heart dodders in the air,

feathers curl off its back as it ascends,

clashing, clashing…

(frightened shadows form)

He lunges forward grasping at its heels,

but the storm, the eye, the life, the fear,

barriers blocking his tips,

showers fall,

filling inside,

staring as the green eye swallows it whole.

Watching Rain

Pecks precious to life sliding and cutting into grass,

Rectangle’s polka dot the night with a warm orange glow,

Fast moving clouds hissing and wailing with a cool breeze,

Tingling toes fiddle between the air’s touch,

Trees spit water while they wave hello,

Manipulating stars to match wishes,

Light rumble of tires calling,

The grey sky bawling,

I’m stalling,

Trying to just think

of what to write next.

Ships Sail

Plank of wood shoved off lakeshore

Pouring rain in vain to help the sails slumber

Wonder thrice times for Hades to reach up and yank

The poor wretch weeping for a discarded tool

Foolishly praying for a companion when the seas hear

And fear Poseidon’s forked arm

Harm comes to those who thrive on others hands’

Plans to save them by dolphin back

Attack the foundation of wonder and angst

But the ululating waves wearily wedge you under sand

Grand weaved yarn alarmed the gods of your strife

You seek your wife but she’s yelling from afar

They can build bridges but you must walk

Yet it takes time to mend stone

So alone you stay away

Till that day.