being contented
and therefore
there is no millstone
to push around in the brain-grey
even life’s bad strokes prove useful
their hex weds lesson to reason.

an ironic orgy of nothing
as if luck did not exist
the upswing contains drops of Yin
a little poison for the system
their hex blesses endurance, immunity

strength is the name of the game
those grains pass the cinch in the hourglass
so slowly & fatally the descent brings education
is there enough left for to better steal [our] time?



when you find some one dead
there is a nexus between your mind
thinking, knowing they are alive,
then realizing they are firmly deceased,
there could be no denying it.

that cross-over, that switch
is ferocious in its speed,
but heavier than block lead,
it is a bewilderment.


her dimples,
to kiss them,
pour wine in them
and drink,
lap from them,
a harmless dog,

those sea eyes,
thumb to brush hair from them,
cradle the wide world gently,
her celestial conglomerate,
my shelter,
her safe
angelic cosmos.

scanning seas,
green-blue or neither,
some new shade
nature never thought
to create.

soul, struggle,
that musical ghost,
spring through chest,
carry her through time.


in the context of a sex dream
there was no sex
but notes, accents,
nuances of a closeness extinct
save for some pinning specter
under the comforter
with me.

lucky there’s no dream smell,
to intercept reason,
exsanguinate the strength
toiled & collected
bricked up to guard,
to forget,
to help


the bone pearl

glowing no sheen

rabbit-ed with fossil-scapes

starring on Earth


vally-ed talcum

thirsty & surrounded


for infinities


faces shed lunatic

cast insane still

passing Sun shielded

in Gaia’s shadow


her waiting cold

forever breathless

shines for us.


death throe of seasons.
Spring the birth,
Summer prime,
Winter destined demise.

cycle end begins come Fall,
so Autumnal resolution for mine:

to burden friends,
scourge myself
awaiting their reply,
shackle necks,
the lot of us,
while the leaf flurries die.

to inspire Joy,
and work each day,
and exist and re-sculpt and revise,
the only comfort besides the balm
of the Autumn breeze outside.

She Holds Water Knowledge

Growing near beaches;
hardy, off the moister
side of a wisp-ing dune,
chased by wind and peppered
with calcium & quartz.

I’d like to think so anyway,
in the purest sense of
personification, trust.



There was two
tawny coppers,
peering behind her boughs
draped on sun-speckled
throat & shoulders.

Breasts, provident bronze
stilled like tacit fruit,
a vernal frame.

Her scentless scent,
poison in mute resonance,
poised in the graceful thought of night.

The moment prior to the bloom.
Earth & partisan parts
captured in muted symphony,
sending themselves about her;
their angelic center.

A sudden flit,
as cautious deer spooked
jet for the woods.
Green spotlight reflections
glint white & vaporize
behind each lash.

Burning auric fingers
briskly exchange
touch to incinerating chill.

With all the blood
in my body rushed,
fantastic plumes
from bell of the brain
through veins un-rung,
slowly purchasing frequency,
taking heavy sound to silence.


*   *   *


…was  masochism,
modest, delicate.
processed aesthetic
through the rose coloured glasses
and as my brain produced endorphins
was kissed with thoughts virgin to creation.

These blessed tortures
floated down like manna,
sopping honeycomb,
bee-less, fatted amber
in dying sunlight.

Her reflections red,
spark-rutty hazel
off the dusk through her trees,
stole brief moments in our cipher,
present & gone between us 
in wisps of smoke.

Pour La Dame de Mouches sur le Event Horizon:


“Que le ciel sombre nuit sans étoiles mitrailler
vos yeux rougeoyants de chambre.
Comme en remuant maelström cosmique
ceux perles de sable va briller.

Autoriser les yeux d’ébène flagrantes, de la grâce
confinés si sombre et si sage,
leer capturé incandescence;
cet univers meurt aujourd’hui.”

Ses sécrète regard d’ornement,
remplissages noirci océans comme elle pleure,
et congelés, une sorte retraites cardiaques
trop froid, trop noir pour nourrir les mouches.