isolation makes me jump
into the shredding propeller of her tongue
it was Hi 8 and stereo record player
and a sense we belonged,
wiping nose on my hand
then on those jeans strained and faded,
we could make it work maybe,
her nightgown had buttons
linear nipples of distraction,
i would run
if it where not the seventeenth floor
and no closer to heaven,
her voice slowed quicker
than the snow outside,
are we done
gun still pressed in my back waistband
you look done
i felt battered beyond the cut over eye
and bloodied nose,
the projects would have heroes
i was not one of them,
failing to hold up the store
girl cashier
younger
faded blonde dye and dark roots,
i spoke and connected,
pulled a flower from the bunches
sold cheaply at the desk
and gave it to her,
a startling explosion
as manager hit me with a piece of wood,
i ran
never said goodbye
but i know who
i wanted now
Tag Archives: man
kohler one and two
apes have insight as seen
under the soft winds of tenerife,
man as another ape
also has insight to convey and
express through brain chemistry,
we share flexible hands
that in wisconsin built ceramic wares
that ape with flexible parts
would use to dispose and hide
bodily waste
not wiped with leaves and buried,
food and the toilet
an inexhaustible amount of
links between,
we feed we shit we betray
the toilet the ape the man
intrigue of mind
not understanding what is real
correlation of brain and development
would introspection
come into play,
ceramic beauty and form
cupping arse to excrete,
apes missed out on porcelain desire
white shining cold,
yet who has developed
we watch we learn we betray
emotions significant part,
bare red ringed arse
bare flushed mating arse
under kohler one and kohler two
we have become that unshakeable
being of flesh fur behavior
dynamics of a wild innocence
that sees things so differently
as we see of each other
anthropometrics of form and mind
everything classified
as in information,
encrypted distorted betrayed
told only by the apes that lead
the higher beings
naked suited alone
angels at the pagan threshold
landscape seen by standing eye
on wind stripped rooftops edge,
answers pilgrims of nausea
fall as if from the depths of the sky,
horizon alone with forest
sun faced green silk and gold,
tracks of those who journey in faith
into the still of wooded glade,
within voices imagined
brambles pulled by enraged fingers
mess and tangle hide
that place used as a remote hope,
he should be there
pale faced
emotions a fountains stream
pleasure would not be found
with slackened vines,
this horizon embraced him
pulled into its complex afternoon
where time lie down
petal seconds fall,
chaos is not for choosing
sleep will not be heeded
as these files of thought
are put away,
staunched by class,
those in power jailers to tomorrow,
gas would fill indecent blue
and many more would fall,
for the sake
of secrets of kings
wordle
so fast to nostalgia
sleep had frozen her eyes,
pulling away a draft between them
limbs stretched unwound
gleaming wounds had healed,
away from window awake,
bathroom without light
under sink cupboard with bleach and mouthwash
a bottle of bourbon in reserve,
pushed door to a crack
sat on a closed toilet seat
without that gaping void beneath his backside
sipping from the bottle,
put a hand in his shorts
rolled his penis between thumb and forefinger
damp from her
and sniffed,
faint lights illuminated heart,
head twisted sideways located tissue
shame to dab away,
as if removing her fluid,
her scent it would all end,
four years together,
she had guided him through a dry silence
concentration and love filled
earth and sky
as a solitary he would be unable to dance
and lament in lengthy boredom,
instead he stopped
stood lifting seat
dropped tissue in
pissed a long stream on continuity,
bourbon safely away,
new swarms changed names of thoughts,
into the bedroom
sprawled uneven she lay
at the window clutched the moon
and drew it back in
to be with them
a smile softer than his lips normally allow,
then settled alongside her
dVersePoets
Catching Ghosts In Summer
slow emphatic automobile
draws to a halt
close enough for door
opening catching tree
metal on nature
only sound that hot morning,
unaware or uncaring
he stood and wiped hands
damp from steering a long way
on pants,
out of city into suburban country,
some things had been forgotten
as if an egg timer
had it’s sand shaken loose,
mind conjured and played tricks,
as he looked at what could
only be a desolate shack,
collapsed porch
dark smoke mascara
about window edges
bleak eyes that wound,
no hurry in placing feet
a kind of lawn congealed
with weeds and long brambles,
stumble
touch bottle in jacket pocket
making sure it’s still there
whiskey would be only thirst quencher
as water cut off
nothing was disguised
it could be yesterday
fingered wedding band
his second the first removed
gone it hurt in a painful tightness,
timbers cracked door flat inside
still smelled smoke,
across the wall graffiti
where family pictures once hung
stirred dust with feet
voices came back as soft ghosts
still caught in this place,
he took a sip of whiskey
sweat traveled across his brow,
jar rattled on the floor
dog barked beyond decaying
timber confines,
other pocket heavy as well
as he slipped jacket off,
whiskey bottle put on what was
the kitchen table
charred becoming lopsided,
drew revolver with every chamber full,
a heavy sun filled yard
put short shadows on the fence,
gardeners with hosepipe,
birds
children
sunbathers
housewives,
heard the bang
a short report
announcing another ghost
velvetmedia 