Cold Is the Night [poetry]

Alone
Cold is the night
Lonely silence until she hums music
Sweet songs in her head
Humming hymns and strumming chords of her favorite songs
Fingers playing music
Pressing hot reflections of a time gone by

A door slams somewhere far away
Footsteps fade away
No sound but her humming
She
Alone again
Shivers in the cold behind closed doors

Someone enters and lights a fire
A lover spreading warmth
Blankets of heat make life cozy
Love makes all music more attractive

All the same
Cold is the night
For musicians playing alone


Penned July 22, 2007

Night Falls Swiftly [poetry]

Night falls swiftly on us—
It is the secret bits of life to do yourself the way you do—
A flash in the sinking sun,
Ten thousand years rebounded,
Vibrations—
It is hell.

Wild you are but ripe for life
In the gray and raging glee—
Nobody likes to die, but it is evening here all the same,
And there is silence.

No more color,
No Hawaiian girls dancing—
All the knots and softness are gone.

A girl retreats her gaze—
What lover keeps her song?

Perfect Moment [poetry]

For a perfect moment
I turn to touch you with my lips
I give you sweet kisses down
making you tremble with anticipation
I take you to the edge of a precipice—
a teeter at the edge of a fall

You cling to me
but you fall in the rush of your sweet release
crying your passion
into a beautiful embryonic abyss of mind and soul

You open your eyes and smile at me
You tell me how perfect everything feels
making us sigh and wish it were so
We return from the depths of our reverie
taking our time while we go

Wilderness Run [fiction]

Across the wilderness’s heated hardness growing, Sarah quickened with memories rushing at her. She ran until she had to rest, wishing for a Long Island iced tea to quench her thirst and dull the memory of leaving him behind in San Diego all those years ago.

She spat sand as he surfed in on a Pacific memory, found her, and filled her thoughts with his sweet and sour past. She chose to diet on the sweet parts—her crutch, always.

Sweet was the sugar on her mind, melting to soft goo that made her speech simple and her brain drowsy and caused her to curl into a fetal position and doze from reality.

The creature stood over her, watching while she slept.

Ode To Dali [fiction]

Frozen morning creaking and screeches spoke from a thousand dull trembles. Heaped breaths billowed from seekers seeking suet and seed. Rabbits and mice ate carrots and cornmeal at Sarah’s feet.

Thunderous trembles agonized across her front lawn when John Dey’s sky blue Chrysler dragged ass past her and sent bone-saw grunts to scamper her guests from the open sea of snow. After several backfires, she knew there was a lord mightier than the devilish owl rustling and hooting at the fiendish wind slapping and bleating most tragic.

Icy trembles sent Sarah indoors to find warmth in her day room filled with art—strange art, Dali’s art. His surrealism was large in the breath of a kiss against a hand flying from the highest limb of war—its rose-colored design set exclusively for the cosmic ballet’s athletes. His Mother Nature in a still life moved fast, searching for the fourth dimension in desert gardens filled with masturbating fruit dyed by ribbons of a Mediterranean color.

Decipher his art, if you can decipher his mind, and you will experience the vertigo of the human absolute of consumption—Eat … eat cosmic orality … eat everything! Gourmandism … cosmic cannibalism … Gala’s table is set with so much grace … Eat, eat, eat young girls, he said all those years ago … they have exquisite insides (they blush when you try to make them edible). He said, Eat, eat, eat young girlsthey tremble when you tell them they are beautiful!

BEAUTY, he said, SHOULD BE EDIBLE OR NOT AT ALL.

Sarah trembled cosmic fourth-dimension screeches beneath a desert sun of his art. She was his for the taking. He came to her and plucked her like beautiful ripened fruit blushing on the vine.

Dreamer [poetry]

A dreamer is a poet
whose words make love to the entire world

I drift to sleep
and dream
moments with you at my side

You hold me
love me
make me feel wanted and alive

You are my secret places spent together
meant for two
me and you

In my life
I am one with you and all I want to be
forever and always
a dream come true

Broken Rocks [poetry]

On broken rocks along the shoreline
The caves of storm nymphs hold scattered remains of every sunken ship

There walks Adam’s Lilith—
Collier’s too
Her body covered by the serpent’s twine—
ophidian lover—
demon of night and day

They dance surrounded by sweet sirens songs
They weave their tapestry before a lengthy mirror
which looks out of lawmen’s forbidden window
to the naked world outside where rulers have fallen from the sky—
Where sea nymphs lament their deaths the way they mourned Icarus
And lured Hylas to his watery grave by their cries near the shore
Where Lilith crushes beauty beneath her bare feet