transparency of natural endeavor

her indentation a pressure point
to suppress dreams
that did not belong
in the vocabulary of her sleep,
sheets hid insecurities and ideals
naked form foetal curled,
an easy stereotype of an agitated mind,
face creased as much
as cotton pillow cover,
reclusive cave to that
twenty eight year identity
and hide it,
vodka bottle an empty on it’s side,
unable to rise
some piss had escaped
lemon floral bloom
washing microscopic secretions away
drowning them
a noah flood,
some clung
to droplet coated vaginal fur
where other bugs feasted
on what he had left behind
jellied semen being consumed
by eager ticks and bugs
not those that live on deer
roaming a frost bitten forest,
rolling cigarette
finger stubs stuffing tobacco
strands into place,
sat up thinking of the tensions
of the night,
looking at balled up blue panties
god she needed new ones
fabric had small holes
from fingers and eager pulling
to expose that vulnerability
not hers theirs,
sentimental erect rigs of flesh
to drill,
find rich seams of expendable fossil fuels
gasification of the soul
for we are carbon
and can be exhausted as quick,
the restoration of vision from thought
so relentless was her life
in reality could not cope with the debris
it remained as she continued,
bic lighter sputtered for a second
cigarette taste washed with cold dregs
of coffee as mug became ashtray,
inhaling
toilet flushed in other room
the drench of his fecal smell
filled the room before he left
a sour note
yet one she accepted,
she was a historical condition
and redemption would not come
with glowing analysis
finding place in biological and physical realms
and stepping away
from a climate of
frustration

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

freeverse, poetry , poem

dVersePoets

burn the other way

stressed cotton gripped,

lithograph shapes move

incoherent blemishes

caught by tired eye,

already a haven

checked by those who love,

yet still cold

comes to linger as an

unwelcome friend,

that closet door moves

with slow intent,

tomorrow a long voyage away

and the captain is

losing the wheel,

wanting to send up flares

light kerosene lamps,

to see

bedroom ocean

hindered by furry forms

that sulk in masses,

stories stringed words

hung across the mind

cranial denial,

cotton scrapes

a loose floorboard resonates

without help

from human form,

as captain he needs a crew,

crew of rag and plastic

to his call they rally

corners become embattled

cotton pushed aside,

sails on pine vessel,

beneath the night

a warrior born

clouds of gods look down,

moon casts a charming glow,

a battle cry

loud inside a voice parents

can never here,

on deck face splashed

by waves of memory,

wheel in his grasp

volley and surge

crackled into the night

with electric interference,

lips once moist

with mothers milk

now bloodied call proud,

monsters fled

lines defiled and beaten

each rushing over the fallen,

he would not be wounded

he would not falter,

time a soft blanket

on which he tiredly fell

sleep devoured

and all this would be

a satisfying memory by morning,

but not the claw embedded

in bedroom wall

dverselogo

From Wasted Sleep

the space between each hour

is almost a decay,

clock conspires in awful silence

mirror reflected hands

reverse that moment

when that realm of waking

is at it’s edge,

straw taste upon the tongue,

as on curved eye

darkness and it’s folds descend

tattered fingers reach upwards

to a point where ceiling once was,

a wicked frost is felt,

gravity in a raw form

will not resist

a man with scattered thought,

chilled he must

throw back cotton anchor

wrapped taut about body,

it would be a while before

the yellow spikes of light

would transform as morning,

bone chimes fine resonance

in the soul,

darkness a swell pushed aside

dreams skirted and lost,

nature would not find any tears

if he fell soundless to the floor,

beyond the door a reprieve

and a new vast openness

spread as a cold

desire

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