Bewildering eyes- steam arises.
Wild light on the rise- warmth surprises.
Marking the hour- thirst as companion.
Bidden by powers- careless abandon.
Suppressed and steaming ‘neath shine and gleam
and oh, to steam – to steam — to steam!
Unsheathed, unwieldly off the banner of a dream.
To sweeten, in sorrow, pressed tight ‘gainst the veil.
What light, what power still cannot fail.
Leaping- to lark limb by stirring limb.
Stirred lightly and pressed deep within.
And so our day begins. A captured light prevalent.
Set sail by winds what rise to win.
Present at christening – naming it thusly
An ode to the thirsty.
...we do but little that we might endure
Unsure of their roar
As they howl ‘neath the bleachers
Speaking of seating
wherever their reach is
Keen when in breech of the peace
Just so long as it pleases
What color should the third verse be
…Are you kidding?
I didn’t write a third verse.
There wasn’t time.
She bought the wrong toothpaste.
I picked up the wrong lightbulb.
She gets upset when I don’t reply quickly.
I ignore the toothpaste.
We work better with screw caps anyway.
This is where we came in.
Not the royals.
Or the unwashed poor.
You’ll find your complimentary mug in the bag under your desk.
It’s where you’ll be sleeping for the foreseeable.
Seriously… SCREW CAPS!
This inflection means that I am loud.
You knew that anyway.
but welcome to the conversation…
In a fallow breath she captured his eye.
Imagining in a moment, a blink in his disguise.
The sound of the drums didn’t reach quite so far.
And what of the poet – Nevermind.
Spotter at perch, etched just-so.
A shadow of a shade, of a shot.
With all she has– these words are met.
‘How could you use a poor maiden so?’
In fallow breath, perhaps your last.
Ready to act, or steal your sight.
‘Tis child’s play to seek, but to hide?
Only the mark, and the marksman would know.
— the seagull? oh, he was just there…
Breath in. One. Breath Out. Two.
–The moon never gets any darker. It’s all in your mind.
Witchcraft; Hang her
Guy Fawkes; Banger
Something for everyone.
Nothing for anyone.
Pressed tightly. Clicked lightly.
Taking one from nothing.
0 – 1 = ?
My kingdom for a hotel…
When is the truth not the truth?
The secret is that there are two routes to happiness: –
wanting what you have
having what you want
And miles of wilds all in between
There isn’t really a roadmap to true happiness
How could there be- it’s wily & elusive
You could stumble through the woods to find it
They’re building new roads all the time
They know where they want to go
As they rattle their chains
Stars charting a roadmap to nowhere in particular
All roads lead somewhere eventually
Something to look forward to