burning crooked roses

coyotes yip !

as i walk through baby cyclones

up the stairs to the sky

as she remained

on sweating rocking horse

deeply sea pearl glint in eye,

oh is there anything else other

than immortality,

reward and wisdom,

have i become the dog

that runs through muddy rivers

to wash the gasoline of brutality off,

i will never see an algae

covered stone coffin,

horse keeps rocking

travelling this

unremarkable earth machine,

stairs behind me

as are leaking babies

and crushed beercans,

no cloud castle

old vagrants song rings softly,

weeping in whitman’s embrace

i have left human shape

finger shadows reach

as frozen spider would,

my once and fevered love

rides on

Stones Thrown as the Crow Flies

midnight had crawled

out of his head leaving the

early hours to do their work,

fingers manipulate

keyboard screen aglow

in transcript of the mind,

his patience a short tether

to the excitement of creation,

as if dawn light brought revelation

a first fledged sun of

the day,

radiated warmth

mist lifting,

stimulants left aside

progressing in a way he knew best,

hunching slightly,

a splinter of memory

curdled color at the corner

of his eye,

tear appeared,

but only of tiredness,

not happiness

love remorse or regret

compacting much of the mind

this way and ball it up

upon a printed page

gave it a name,

then abandon it

let it become a piece thrown aside,

to be read again one

future day,

at completion a certain smile

pleasure heightened

few could ever see,

it was written

it was done,

exhale pull away

tremors in the arms

till the next moment.