I want to burn it all
The filth. The scum.
The self absorbed.
The haughty. The vain.
The rich. The sin.
Category Archives: autobiographical
Beginning to Fly
The sky is cold winter
Wyoming wind wailing
Nestled in the purple
Choking vacuum of forever
Song O’ The Willamette
Seek ye sounds and hear the collective bugle calls!
O’ osprey n’ lumbering locomotive bawls
Hear its honking trombone plunger muted feature
Garbled warble like the voice of Charlie Brown’s teacher
Galileo
Like all the famous
astronauts and astronomers
who spent days
peering at the heavens
I’ve stared too long at the stars
orbiting inside your baby blues
to no longer deny that God exists
The Drought of ’22
The body of missing teen found plastered over headlines
Barely mentioned, the lake and its 500 year low waterline
A society that buries itself in fantasy buying virtual land
Will eventually realize that our bodies cannot drink sand
Prosopagnosia
Night and day’s tied faces to the plainly hidden
Double helical wrapped Christmas morning gifts
Opened up like halos when street lamps kick in
The Antihero
I am the undrank cheer
and the spilled champagne
Of the New Year’s promises
that wind up supine, dead
A Love Letter To A Chameleon
Lets revel in this shared Bodhi
Dance forth with wine
And pull the moon
Down over our cheeks
If I Was The Planet Mars
If I was the planet Mars
I’d break free from the Sun’s hold
And escape into the dark cold
Forge a path into the vast black
and never, ever, ever come back
This Muddy Wake
Soon I’ll molt off my sun dried summer skin
And ditch the campfire and beer songs
To a cowboy’s goodbye, a wink and a smile
Knelling his shiny bell and his trusty steed
A sequin stitched requiem fallen fallow
Of Fall’s fraying executioner’s dark hood
Song Of Fawns
Stained holy the color
A throne for august queen
This vale of hearth
My elegant womb
The Yawper and the Mute
Niches determined by force
Like the gravity of breathing
And the sounds you make
when you dream away from me
Our hand clasped curious souls
crawl from their human cages
tucked under cotton bed sheets
My Town
I’m an erect middle finger to the puppeteer
In valleys full of folks sick of California
Doing their damnedest to make California here
Solvitur Ambulando
This is my journey
To this goddamn place
I pace just behind the edge
Or at least what’s left of me
This, my purgatory
My paradox
My gathering
My reckoning
The Staggering Marionette
If my poems had lips they would hide in your pout like secret honey
A whispered cache of melody dripping away in a sea of awkward noise
Fear Not
Please don’t tell anyone
But I have this secret
I’ve been meaning to tell
You see I am an angel.
Don’t laugh
Like The Insides Of A Piano
I am the knotted insides of a piano
I sound how my guts are strung up
Once eloquent like the way antelope run
Or how wind sculpts fresh snow into drifts
Born Shy
I live on the wrong glassy frosted frame side
Of a Norman Rockwell doctor visit painting
And the museum security staff roping it off
Undetonated
Rubbing my sleepy eyes
Peering past them
in total disbelief
Like a half asleep
scared latchkey kid
whose hometown
just burned down
My Hands…
Grasped thumbs
Cupped breasts
Rattled shakes
Played with dolls
Bounced balls
Jumped rope
Reached for love
Clung to sun
The Tigress Awakens 