blood of the cucurbita

we are myth

we are legend,

behind fences we are found

bred and sacrificed on all hallows eve,

generations past

gutted and carved in celebration,

so misunderstood seen only as decoration

as human skulls on poles once where,

unlike my wild cousins in mexico

scattered over landscape and mountain,

they do not suffer the tampering

of our genetics

79 loci,

phenotypic slides for frankenstein,s scientist

altered , inbred,

not realizing our beauty

in shape and color

palmate leaves , long tendrils

unisexual flowers touched by gentle bee

curling about stamen

stroking with long legs

collecting pollen my yellow stain

peponapis body thrumming

resonant on my petals,

10,000 years of domestication

treated worse than dogs

compliant in nature as man knows best

our flesh substance forgotten

as gourd display incised and flensed

to amuse and terrify

projects of another’s nature

that is more disturbing and cruel

poetry, poem , fall

no more clapboard storehouse

seasons merchant brings the harvest

flesh ripened berries and firm apples

john deere’s wander fields

barns fill with crop,

barricades still out against winter

last flush of heat clinging on

birds on the cusp of migration

still hold a note in song,

and i face my execution

she had wanted me for years

now i was disposable,

unable to plow fields

and seed a decent crop

inverted hearts adorn the page,

and i find the porch

for sleeping some more,

i wish the merchant did not

expect so much,

being a simple man

i was now to be abandoned

she could make her heart autonomous

it had to turn inside

beneath her maiden outlines

no flesh expanded as she expected,

evicted to the car

its vinyl bench with no pillow

woke one morning and drove

leaving her and her field

to be sown by another

in spring

poetry, poem , fall

sedoka #1

desire crawls past

as seasons speak in tongues gone

the infinite becomes ghost,

seasons spit lingers

poor heart withers for kisses

this season brings back the lost

blind code of tragedy

o glad spring

natures skin covers all again,

immortals forgotten

books buried in dull folded earth

tender vortice consuming hearts,

there is a thirst for the coming sand,

grass may tremble as it has risen,

flaming rings and streaming darkness

colossal worlds had not seen anything

of this before,

innate crawling at our borders

no day is forever,

spires and battlements no place

for ones such as this,

cold petals of a comets tail

let it pass

nine waves of birth

many wanted it shrouded


scarlet ribs exposed expired,

now here would grow

one of a darker shine is coming

in a place on fifth street

habitat of men’s waste

civilization stiffened,

once before it had been seen

but not born as this had been

limbs without foetal sac extend 

ribs expanded

a new biology that was rapid and sudden

fear came in quarters

with each section of growth,

it knew and would consume voracious and explicit,

time segmented to be lived

as and when it wanted,

those who knew to object

found in a deep lividity,

and there was others born of old natures form

fragile anthropoid womb,

as they rose

as did the hero

figure in fixative of mood and relevance

could he protect against such malevolence,

he was a lure to the failings and complexities

we had once known,

from poulticed womb

sucking on earth drawn nipple,

would live and not yield,

he could not comprehend

that he would see

stark in it’s contrasts a beast to be fallen or understood,

flesh decays for a reason

both he and beast

faced a modernity

that was new and abstract

in a wasteland of succession ,

beast would find it’s way

limbs gave way to wings

stretched on the industrialism and democracy

that came before

fear could be a portent

science a response not a reaction

could not comprehend,

even those who had laws

that pastured and herded

experienced a sight problematic

with their domestication to older gods,

he again the one chosen to slay

as they truly wanted,

two creatures find a companionship

astride ocean’s they left

the tentative threads of old tragedy that existed,

and watch the tilt and slide

on axis of belief and society

fall away to a darkness 

worse than nothing



electric seasonal analysis

in open eyed sleep

those bridges have no span

as night follows the curve

spreading darkness

and moons quarter glow,

fox on bed of rotting

fall leaves unblinking

wanting for a lonely prey,

whales ceaseless extend

range across oceans

that have many liquid paths,

and the infant

at the bars of it’s cot

red eye tired

holding on waiting

with some trepidation

as scissors of day cut slits

letting light seep through,

new light new day

streams winter refreshed

grass becomes unbowed

no longer submissive,

it smells different

under blanket of darkness

a transformation

of renewal

of procreation

the urge to replace winter fallen,

infant releases bars

sitting back

it’s face acknowledges

what this morning

has brought


Four Haiku

grit sea wind blown falls

burning eye as winter comes

morning dims to pale



i am there again

dazzled under camera

she as flesh to me


unforgiven flash

of written resolution

ideas cascade


from bosom to loin

i in extreme insolence

radiate summer

Departure of a Giving Land

my morning wreckage

brings gulls to the

wine hearted waters

still roiling with a mind’s


grasping out with unfeeling


everything slips through,

my glances had taken me

beyond beauty and the pallid

embers of dusk,

leaving the night and it’s cast

of iron stars

to be bold and unrelenting,

i rose on feet

more made of clay

than months before,

shrugging of what had been

dreams of scents and color,

the day would be a clear passage

i would move calm and sure,

other days will be as good,

only the mind has knowing walls

retaining the moisture of those

things to be forgotten,

a dampness that sometimes

rises to the surface,

a reflection of eyes on the face

holds it at bay,

as summer is drawn on ropes

further away.