It was on fire, or maybe just aglow

or something, that morning

So recently I’d had my eyes re-opened to

something that was seen clarion and incomparably desirable,

just a few moons a few dozen moons ago; 
and his sunfire hands scattered seedlings of a kind, to plant

                     in her head                                                         

her beautiful multicolored brain


Seawater has its way

February 11, 2010

Partition, silk and moistened,
adheres and I caress her o’er the fabric while seahorses neigh and race

She did turn; strode towards the churning foam
Lone strip of gray fabric, tattered yet smoothed by saltwater

passing along
my palm


Her head rests on her white shoulder
lips pastel and sensual

one ribbon of restless blue above

Those lips serenaded it to reality

Spring was the Star of the Evening Revue 

Confused so far?
                                     I was.

 No; no good reason why.

She and I talked like we’d never been apart and hid ‘neath a veil 

 of tasty nocturne silk. 

I knew her mind and she knew why and how we both tasted when spring

was still the main character

and reality kept its haughty distance 

I warm her ashen skin with each flicker; each touch
impregnated by the earthy scent of vegetation.
There’s a shallow pond somewhere below

and the sunshine showers

over the surface,              turning the water and the oil within it

eighteen different colors;

scales on a lysergic serpent

Jellyfish Devourer Devil

November 5, 2009

IMGP4804I have come to swallow your civilization,

It told me before slithering, gelatinous and

implacable, towards the salty lip of the ocean.

Sandy Brown the Locks Wind-Buffeted and Fingers Entwined Her mermaid hair caressed by the gale

I will run my fingers through the locks and when we kiss we will both taste sand and salt;

                                                                                             neither of us will care and Neptune’s hard and heavy breath will excite us so


that we’ll be unable to breathe

 when our lips part if they part.

Prelude to Halfway to Hell

November 3, 2009

Ten minutes. Less.

The crescent moon swings its pendulum blade across the pale skin of cumulonimbus

and my foot slams the gas pedal down to the carpeted floor.

I feel the car hop into the air as I soar over the dip in the road. Tires smack into the asphalt,

wounding their ebony flesh on the merciless surface while the music throbs incandescent and the cops trail

wanly after me.

Long after me.

Fuck you.

Sea Serpent

September 13, 2009

Ye Olde Sea Serpent, monster of the deep

Slick like purest crude oil and dark like that, too

Explore the brackish pit of endless water

’til the shafts of natural light jerry-rigged through the coils

and strands of peat moss and aquatic grasses

seduce you to the surface for long enough to frighten some naive fisherman

Or your dark gliding vision will induce a vicarious mystery-revealed thrill in some bored tourist

Yes, you will open the joy of discovery,

and the shudder of tasty fear,

thanks to what you are

and what the murky depths whisper and promise you to be

maybe for the first time. You are, too.
I close my eyes and when I do, that’s when they’re staring at their most intense; a glimpse straight into the deep swirling unknown

that spatters and swirls restless

Indigo curtain hangs tautly over eyes; periodic droplets of even darker ink stain the cloth and inspire its fibers to generate coronas and gorgeous implosions and cloud cover like an organism that never stops sloughing off dead cells for live ones.

and when your eyes are closed that’s when they see what’s inside

Can’t tell you untruths because you see them, with your closed eyes that x-ray everything that I surround me with; no lead, no shield

Oh, hell.

plunging neckline and redemption in that soft perfection, it is its own reward or punishment or taste or scent.

Like saliva to skin,

and it all branches off to roots that grow expansively ‘neath the soil, drinking from the gloriously sodden coffee-ground earth.

Perigee and Clueless

August 14, 2009

It will spin to continue my journey and I hope to find the path

it is dark and I blunder along it alone, exposed feet carmelized by the gently-mudded trail. I did not intend to hurt the moon but I did and perhaps I can grow from it

 in the meantime I raise my fingertips to graze

against the tall ferns coiling equine over the road and

increase my pace, hoping that around the next bend the beautiful full moon awaits,

so ready to wipe

 the dirty slate of my soul clean with her soft speckled forgiving ivory hands