Sunday, March 31, 2013

Easter 2013

Standing in the church
On the verge of tears
While unobserved the
Veiled corners swirled
Within the darkness of
Saints & the songs of
Sinners echoing inside
Me like the tide can’t
Make up its mind is it
Dawn or dusk
Moon or sun
The light ever-present
& knelt unobserved
Amidst our collective
Communion & bade
Me never forget you
Asked how I was &
I was at peace & you
Smiled & I smiled as
The light enveloped
Us & remembered


Thursday, March 14, 2013

Music I

I hear classical music &
I think of stone buildings
Like a museum maybe a
Church or a mausoleum
Maybe some place where
Old is stored whether a
Body or an idea or belief
I imagine the sweet hint
Of flowers & an ecstatic
Mourning overcomes me
Just until this music is
Over & I wish that I had
Written something so I
Could still hear it in my
Head feel it in my heart
Slipping away from me
One beat at a time


Tuesday, March 5, 2013


A prostitute must attend
The possibility of uncertain
Behavior with strangers or
Entertain perilous thoughts
Preceding the transaction
She must have questions
Affecting her performance
Caught between a rock &
A hard place yet not of her
Choice Lord but yours to
Watch over her or merely
Turn the other cheek is
There some sort of script
Or is it all left to instinct &
Improvisation involuntarily
Reacting to an anomalous
Profession a confession
Of the sick & dirty of the
Perverted & desperate no
One ever said it was other
An egregious arrangement
To be sure but does any
One ever imagine her as
Pretty or lonely amidst
Even such company as
This does anyone ever
Imagine her at all



He paints a life
& steps back too
Afraid to become
A part it drips in
Place & forms a
Mad world only he
Really knows the
Moment resides in
The brush every
Hedonistic stroke
Gliding along the
Color covets what’s
Relinquished for
The sake of a coin
He's nailed to the
Pale wall brilliant
As consecrated
Blood pressured
From the vein


Sunday, March 3, 2013


Looking at skulls the
Hollowed out vessels
Of ancient civilizations
Just small parts of the
Puzzled skeleton remains
Left without brains or
Any faculty to measure
The days spent in quiet
Repose buried in semi
Tranquil supposition ‘til
Progress has need of the
Space science requires
The clues of an illiterate
Decomposition written
In litter & waste tracing
Invention to its source
Looking for the mother


Saturday, March 2, 2013


Living with scruples is an un
Easy truce gleaning substance
From the shadows becomes a
Nagging existence a witness
To things done in the darkness
As well as those visible in the
Light living within an anxious
Mood sharing olden secrets
Splayed open like unraveled
Nerves susceptible to every
Influence & atmosphere to
The words spoken & those
That get swallowed choked
Down with bitter medicines
To help abide the things that
Never dissipate or dissolve
Peeking around curtains of
Moon illuminating snow
Reflecting the cold