Gutter

As fast as fingers learn
To spread the skin

Temptation finds an entrance
You learned the language
That turns my head
Is not earnest or eloquent.
But a culvert full

       of carnal, hoarse, hungry words

Spoken under streetlights.

path well worn

Tried and truthful witness
To the burden I have lifted

This midnight bonfire
Conceals the fine lines of retreat
In shadows blue with late June heat

The flames, desire waning
To embers glowing and fading
I beseech, and begin to release
Path well worn and journey complete

April Weather Advisory

The generals are predicting an invasion;
A million troops of
Kamikaze crystalline warriors
To sacrifice their
No-two-ever-alike selves
To the noble cause of
Headlights and highways.

Forgiveness

A harmony lingers
Where there is
Dissonance and wild syncopation
Like some awful rendition
Of a Stravinsky overture
Revolutionary pattern
An Evolution.
Maybe this is what
Mother Earth felt
When life first began
A little bewildered
A little alone
And a little more ready
To understand.

bloodword

Words drowned,
Dried
On the surface of my tongue.
You once mentioned
The copper-flavored kisses
Bestowed,
Pale light.
Not blood or bile,
No,
It was these words
Dissolving, contorted
Revolving, distorted.
The lines of your face
Jaded.

Sigh

hazelnut vanilla tea,

red and orange dahlias,

big sunglasses

rosewood fretboard, 

fresh basil, lemon thyme,

slate flagstones.

picture frames,

double-stitched leather, 

orchard apples.

first snowflake on forgetful tongue,

vanilla-lavender pillow spray,

camel-colored flannel sheets.

Outage

Losing power creates idleness.

Walk,  turn;  Flip, switch

Footstep count communication
Button, cord, wire.
When it's gone
We sit.
In the dark.

Losing power creates renewal.
Candles, dusk
Function trumps aesthetic purpose.
Return to flame, warmth, comfort,
Sight in darkness
Protection from the damp and cold.


I try to explain this

He says,
"When did we lose electricity today?"


I smile to myself.

To Love

Too frail to last and fleeting
Love
        Turn-of-the-Century, Date-Night Love
wanders through my years
Hoarse whispered and softly breathing
Its voice echoes in my ears
And one by one
They come undone
The joinings of my peers.
For one might say,
"Love endures, is not boastful or unkind."
And one might say,
"Charity endures, is not wanton or decietful"
And one might say,
"These things endure, greatest all is Love"
But each lover has boastful, wanton pride
We patrons of Love
So falsely proclaim our forever-ness
While coveting spontaneity,
Rush and flush and fiction
And quickly put asunder are the ties
So Love,
too frail to harmonize
shatters from the first sign of dissonance
of temptation or anger or hurt
        And so did I
But Forgiveness prevailed

And the greatest of all is Love?