Already Gone

She wants to keep me around on her pantry shelf

as she sucks the other souls

glibly into her gullet

licking her fingers in feigned innocence

 

She stalks me through time

In her decrepit body

In a sidewise glance in the mirror

 

Clean hope was her enemy

It’s fresh scent leads prey off the trail

Into the thriving woods

Up the ridge and away from the bog she tends

 

Come and sit with me here

On the edge of the foul pond

Sit, chat, bear your pain to me

She sang in her siren’s song

 

Duped, drugged, and so thirsty with despair

We all went,

More than once

Let her collect tidbits for later use

when least expected

at the weakest moment

She counted on that

And she was right

They have fallen

One after another

Scrabbling for purchase

On the oily rock of her heart

 

The dark waves of her grief waited below for them

And as she swallowed them up

There was a moment of unity and calm surrender

 

Needs no longer available

her blinking beacon drones back on

She’s got to have more

To swallow

Even if in madness

She sucks her own tail down her gullet

 

She was too good at what she did

And ran through her stock and trade of beings

Stronger in her desperate desire

She casts her eyes to me again

 

Once again

Time after time

From bed

From the grave

 

But I learned by watching those before me

Entranced

I dodged and weaved

And slipped away at the last moment

And this time,

And every time from now until ever after

Her net will come up empty

 

I am already gone

 

Cast away

For it only weakens you further

Soon your phantom bat-wings will shake and juggle

 

No more

Read the rest

Band-Aid Kiss

There’s the heartbreak wave

 sad and fresh

 that sweeps in over my rocky-sould

when love doesn’t work out.


There’s the horror-loss-heart

when assurance is ripped away
people,

always supposed to be

Aren’t

 and won’t ever again

 smile or breathe.


And there’s another

 Under-cover ache

Hanging around, lurking around

 waving across the night,

 just waiting.Read the rest

The Most Peace Needed

Just hang a left and pavement turns to mud and keeps them out

All except the most hardy

The most in need of peace

I pass the chained-off track to the pond

and I’m almost home

I’m almost to my first and only all-mine place to be

The timbers soar towards the chilly sky

 

I am remembering

Because I can’t see all that with my eyes from here,

 under these quilts

But I know it well.Read the rest

Ice

There was no ice where I was born

Then the giant’s took me to the cold.

 

They busied:

 Prepared for games, and conquering.

Child-me stared

up at the sun…golden

 Then down

 where it turned silver in the ice covered boulders

Wrapped, dripped around…

 

Ice grew out over the edge of the stream

 Crept and smoothed across the grit, sand, and pebbles.Read the rest

Shoulder Tickle

 

Looking up as I walk:

Light-bright, a lovely site illuminating twig-fingers

Waving goodbye to the day.

Above the mud-slush and trickle-trickle

Something tickled my shoulder.

So I scanned around,

Until I found

The moon up there.

A fat-half hanging in the blue…now showing

 The lopped-half orb, shine-power growing

 in the purple-dark,

later,

on my bed against my sleeping-eyes

It might wake me up.Read the rest

A Piece of Sunshine

 

Puttering

Coffee filter, trips to the frig,

Swipe and wipe,

 here and there

 

The cloth-like paper towel grabs up the bloated rice grains

 from the drain

A new clean sponge tackles the remains from dinner

As the oatmeal simmers

 

Some crud on the floor, are bits and flakes

Hand flowing, slightly adjusting the arc a tad wider

In order to slide them into my grasp

 

Fingers and brain

 lightly tracking the micro weights and friction

 as mind stays busy

 

An unimpeded motion sends a signal to stop

To look,

 to assess

Oh.Read the rest

Defiant Cow

 

Roll’n down the mountain with a warm bowl in my lap

Generally I look left, at the field of cows and their lack

of progress.

Munch, crunch, mooo, mooo.

What are they up to?

They give birth there, walk, sleep,

little ones frolic

In their pasture, so bucolic

before being trucked off, their meat for sale

So really its just cow-jail.Read the rest