Can I See

with a moonglow

face of anticipation

she scraped my heart

off her shoes,

peeling away yesterday

dropping me on the

obituary page,

but i was not done,

love was more

than her birdhouse breasts

that held secrets

chirping in a way i could

not feed,

or those hands

that interlocked mine

for walks past lake and wood

that promised more,

conscious of her

beating out a parade

of emotions

that marched staggered and

fell under my influence,

i would have to join in

pick up the beat,

dragged from floor grazed

and bleeding,

no flowers in paper wrap,

no chocolates

or soft music,

a demonstrate grander

needed,

or else i would remain

detested and dropped,

to configure a new way to

my lfe without her.

Somnambulist

depth of darkness

measured by fear

rolled tight as a scroll

in my gut,

no reflective light

guiding footfalls

taken across carpeted halls,

my mind once a languid

harbor ,

now storm tossed

each night a lesion

to my conscious

breath came in stuttering

pauses from which

condensation lifted,

never reassured,

for every night i walk

the dream of the night before

 

last sentence a prompt at Writers Digest

http://community.writersdigest.com/group/poetrythatbites/forum/topics/poetry-contest

Cautionary Nature

boneless spineless snail

traverse  the borders

in methodical one footed slither,

matted earth sticky trail

green shoots partially devoured,

leaving destruction behind,

going further with home upon

your back,

avoiding pellets scented by death,

away further

to less green places,

where the hunger consumes,

to shelter in an echoing place,

birds call above,

fear is not a concept

accepted in your nature,

you exist,

morals do not play the game,

paused close to a stone

found plucked rapidly

thrown,

air whistles about you

before landing somewhere

unknown markers, tastes

and scents,

you cannot progress,

boneless spineless snail

staying till there is an empty shell,

becoming pale beneath a sun that

holds no righteous light.

Vicarious Hats

indulge me

if you will

before pissing off

to somewhere else,

i tread lightly

so that you see me

yet not feel me,

flickering as a bulb

on bare socket

over a desk

littered in curled

yellowed pages,

some written upon in

inks that dispel moods,

tranquil lakes between

stacks of leatherbound journals

accented by the trails my

life has taken,

do i require

that you linger

like a rumor soured,

yes i do

for i have

placed upon these pages words

of varying strategy,

drawing you into the cavernous

mind that engulfs

all who enter,

my world is so unlike yours

my monsters do not lurk

beneath slatted wooden bed

but morph into that bed

and enfold me and mattress

in wooden embrace of illusion,

but if you enter and still leave

take away a portion

scoop into words, sentence and

phrase with that shovel like

perception,

smile, urge or rant

at my discourse,

you are not required to like

or linger yet i will get you,

under my hats

worn over many faces

you will see me many times

and i will be different

Map of Consequences

if the tide  crept

onto the map,

would jetsam get

pushed onto paper shores,

riddled with a cargo once

wanted,

particles of a time when

laden low in the water

movement became progressive

and sullen,

with Captains pressure

overboard they went,

these pieces,

identifiable to the moment they

are relevant,

among them a heart

oxidized yet beating in a rhythm

one would not see as living,

settled on silt,

occasional foam spread over it,

defiantly remained,

becoming part of this new land

forgetting the old rusting vessel

unburdened lifted lighter on the

water,

still did not gain speed,

instead propellers churned quicker

lifting out of water away from the

surface becoming more fragile

then disintegration ,

with a thrum of satisfaction all that

was needed done,

the heart became absorbed by sand

beating within the island,

staining and curling

the map,

remained unfound.

Feeder

pulled from styrofoam

ice packed box

held by gill and jaw

placed on block,

silver scale shimmer,

black handled long blade

removes head,

short blade stabbed in

then drawn down spine,

snick of bone following line,

pale orange flesh revealed,

flaky flesh

when steamed or baked,

fillet laid on ice,

ready for critical consumer eye

valuing it’s worth for evening

meal,

another fillet from opposite

side scissor trimming leftover

bony flesh packaged for stock

making,

anodyne muzak playing

dulling sensation

repetition takes over,

one box merges to another,

voracious feeders hunger

for more,

buying fillets broken down

into portions skinned and

boned,

light relief with colleagues

banter and play,

washing hands ,

hours pass,

time for a coffee

and reflect that you have

fed so many.