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
Category Archives: butterflies
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
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
Good News
She fell upon my hardcover
book on the lives of caterpillars
from a wispy cedar tree burl
I scared away an excited robin
and some boys with fishing poles
I watched her crawl back and forth
doing a 50 leg two step on my arm
Paper Tigers
I keep my paper tigers close to me
Anxiously pacing, dogged and untamed
Like the very last satyr in the world of man
Crumpled wads, all bark and neutered maws
Gilded divertissements that tiptoe around
My real demons and the elephant in my room
Like my fear of getting chained to comfortable
When all I dream about is running as fast as I can
A Collector of Highs
I’m a collector of highs
Like a nano journalist
Clung to the necks of crows
I am murders of knowledge
That comes only by scavenging
Through trash and old cigarettes
To find a shiny thing worth holding
I am the art of the cuttlefish
Summer Air
Clinquant melodies of scattering leaves and seed Soughing plaintively between sunburned hollows Like perfumed tiny tourists from a passing charabanc Their lilacs’ scent of sweet sillage lingers for a puff Leaving painted imaginary doodles of agitated air behind Foregathering in the wakes of napes, and marooned nooks Of plumped and ripened orange bursting splurt lilyContinue reading “Summer Air”
Reclamation
I once loved the city and its gleaming promise
Of slicked back, urbane haute cultured praxis
Circus sideshows, embonpoint and spectacle
Where cinereous clad clouds hover like buzzards
Magoa
Her face weathers with patina
A spavined statue left vulnerable
To past atrocities, disappointment
And the relentless passage of time
Like the portrait of Dorian Grey
Whose worn canvas painted smile
Became a reflection of men’s sins
Turned farther and farther down
The Tigress Awakens 