Potter’s Field.
Spinning wheel. Once or twice Could be nice, Or not. What never ends Falls between The Hippocrene And olive branch. Bending, Broken Arrow Ranch Isis, my dear, Save your mascara tears. We’re in arrears And up to our necks. What the heck? Why so shy And circumspect? Where’s this going? Thoughts Worth knowing Daily need gnawing Instead of knock and pawing At the door and gate And told to wait And wonder. Remain asunder. Invite them in To the table. Take a seat. Pull up a plate. Pass around. Not lost, yet found. Dig right in And down the hatch. Throw and catch; Swirl and spit; Rinse, repeat. It’s time to eat, Before it’s too late And in a ditch You’re lying. Bait and switch. On all fours, Wondering which Thoughts are yours. 9/4/20
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Foxfire
Guide wire Ever higher Deep desire Nada bliss Think of this Ermine hair Savoir faire Idaho You don’t know Why we go To and fro I declare, What’s under there? Who should care If I croak, Rum & coke, Fall off the wagon. See what happens To those that fall? Hear the call of underlings Saying things That have no meaning, Without care, Yet debonaire On a raft In the aftermath, Taking swings. Seeing things That others don’t. Get your coat, We’re leaving. I’ve had enough Powder puff, Junior fluff Ajar agenda. Let’s call Brenda. Her thoughts on par With Tiny Tots And middle school. You know the rule: Don’t be a fool To think others wise, When other guys Know what to say. If you’ve laid an egg, And hatched it right, It’s Dynamite. But instead, This dribbling piss Of thoughts, Half baked. Please stick to cake And muffins, Gingerbread From your little head. I don’t knead To know Your mental dough Or Oreo afterglow. There now, That’s said. I can go to bed And rest in peace With my valise Of care, I keep locked up In there, To disturb No one Save, my father’s Son. 8/31/20 Sit back
Shocked wife, Drowned man, Hulking soldier Now sightless. Sit back and Examine your debt, Whatever it was. Behind graves In drunken peril, Ourselves, Foolish Sheets of polished Marble. Words, Bird’s inscription, Railcar scrawl. Look towards Venus Then dart towards Ribbon of highway. Shepards advance; Soldiers stampede; Tense and discolored To call their flock Home. From the open ceiling Trickles damp language Where daddy waits with A story Worry not, Sleep ascends 9/21/88 Sensory overload
Heading backwards down the road. Walkabout or walk within Well intentioned mannequin Once decrying methods taught, Now implying reasons fraught With emotional leverage. A fizzy beverage That tickles tonsils As it trickles down And serenades the tiny town. Ice Capades into bubbly theater That’s become legit. This broken cycle that won’t quit, So long as we are far removed From what we do or don’t approve. Make decisions, feelings crashing. Heartfelt pleas and reason dashing. Never mind, this locks my frown. Rather focus on your sparkly gown; Your colorful, clowny, happy sauces That help reverse the aging process And liven the ugly party office. The heightened beaming, Asshole reaming, Fragrant candy. Junior dandy, Show us how we should feel, So we can therefore toast with zeal And parade past furtive, filtered cameras Their Godzillas to our Gameras. All together despite the weather. Crashing powerlines measure by measure, While simple folk are left behind In their wake and walking blind. 10/11/20 Open,
Then Close. To bring In And Out Is to Open, Then to Close. In the Opening Is the Ining. Closing Out Is the Outing. Opening In Is to Ining, As Closing Out Is to Outing. Out In The air 2/12/19 Damned hyena
Walks the floorboards. Mumbled menace Closets, cupboards Giddy swagger Grizzled charm Cloak and dagger Four alarm What’s he want? Who’s he after? Calls and taunts Within the plaster Undercover, I perspire. Shifting, shirk The willing wire. Slobber trails Down the hall. Salve and slather Wounded gather. Wringing, working Scratching, lurking. Rounds the corner Eye to eye. Ask to answer. Mangle closer Razor Reaper In reply. Gagging breath Garbled lungs Stench of death Hanging tongue Now or never, Make your pleasure. Risk endeavor Pull the lever. Often wake From such disturbance. Shiver, shake Earthquake occurence 4/3/19 Flower sweet
Flower whole Flower bleached On collar bone. Petals fold Towards the marrow. Stamens pulse Shoulder's sparrow. Exhumation. Spring is here. Jubilation. Nonna, dear. Floury apron, Palm of hand, Palm of heart Reaching, reaching Through the dark, Toward my heart, Toward this corm, Buried deep To keep me warm 3/05/19 Still and all,
Peter Paul, Who would gaul To wander backwards, Risk a fall. Trusting nature, Open eyes, Fear no danger. Look how strangers' Steps have carried Moments, buried In the soil. Seeker’s oil Lies ahead. So don’t play dead. Focus toward The arc’s horizon, With hope held hands And no demands But lucky charms. Open brave your arms. The morning target, For those alike To gather, Soap and lather. Clean the layers. Bitterness does no favors, Only locks the door. Like a lion, Roar! And sound the rabble. Even thoughtless babble Will shake the grit. Relieve yourself of it. 4/23/22 Warm fog,
Throat and lungs. Bandaged gauze, Whisper tongues. Veils white Cashew skin. Fossil eyes Lit within. Moistened tresses, Bated breath, Cotton dresses, Scared to death. Aching rapture Darkened tomb Moment capture Pray the womb Recoil, Release. Roll the stone. The Golden Fleece Heading home. Light of morning Blinding eye Warming welcome Say goodbye Leave us wondering Faithful cope Lost and loving Ray of hope Palms together Arms reach far Psalms forever Wherever You Are 3/22/19 Incense steep
Holy oils Ochre pews Hallowed soil Odious fans Cackle and prod Innocent bastard Lamb of God Salts sting Vinegar tears Consecration Through the years Sweating secrets Hopes and fears Palm Sunday Waves and fans Shakes the hands Of cotton veils Coat and tails Ribbons, cufflinks Thorns and nails 3/4/89 Grey light
Unfurls Venetian blinded. “Viene, viene la mattina” Limbs rattle, shake, Grind and snake. Muscle ache Give, then take. Lids flicker Thoughts, thicker, Pasty recollections, Dreamy reflections. Images, reduced to memory Sharpen focus. Hocus pocus. Frame after frame. Still, This boiling cinema Reels Between my eyes. 2/11/89 On house windows
Rosemary spindles. Long fingers adorned, Blossomed and thorned. Combing my arbor. Tending her larder, A suspended casket, A weed woven basket. Old nanny take care. The dew drops delicious. The sun warms you there. It’s rays are nutritious. The streets bring a roar. It’s children in chorus. They hunger and havoc. Their sores wet and porous. Embrace them with poultice. Endure their lost suckling. For children run off And leave your knees buckling. Beneath you a cadre Of daffodils jealous, Catching your tears As they wipe Down the trellis. 3/23/89 Tissues,
Talcum, Dripping pablum Soiled carpet Mothers’ milk Reluctant nostrils Tenuous pockets Lips parted Unexpected exhumation. Misdirected fluids Lube the lobe of tongue. Gurgled shower Budding flower Lamby Limbs Loll and sway. April day, Warm and breezy Blonde, fine hair Through and through. Combed and rattled. Tattled By its’ tail. 4/9/89 |
AuthorMo Zine |