13/30

rush of cool
night air
harsh against the back of
my throat

brush of your
warm lips
igniting sparks deep in
my primal mind

sting of icy
snowflakes
churning around us in
December's darkness

Searching hands
curious with inexperience
seeking the heat
between our clumsy hearts

Knowing eyes follow
wounded and weak-kneed
we're tearing away from
shamed cravings

the folly of our innocence

12/30

'41
The bomb dropped
exploding 
sending shrapnel
into everyone's lives

Newlyweds
off to war
Not even 2 weeks in

Making first love in
a row boat under
voyeur Moon

Sharing tiny
1 bedroom apartment
with another
doomed couple

life lived in
stolen moments
a whole 24 hours
or
four 6 hour segments?

How long can
we make the love
stretch out?

How long before one
of us is
snuffed out?

Cigarette smoke clings
to the hostile air
and human ash
swirls in the wind

Making love and war

11/30

a night at the Bay
chilly breeze sweltering beats
perfect conditions

10/30

Your pain is
palpable
rising off of you 
like
heat waves off of the 
bubbling pavement
of a hot desert road

a mirage
something you have 
worshiped
now revealing its 
true intent

to pull your achingly
yearning
young
heart 
from its not so 
well defended
crib between your ribs

and squeeze it to a 
pulpy mess

your boiling blood 
drips
from his long 

(once entwined in your hair; 
wrapped around the small of your back;
dipped into crevice of pleasure)

fingers
down his beautifully 
shaped forearms
to pool in the sand
beneath his feet

Young hearts, run free

9/30

Let us run
on freedom infused legs

In dusk dimmed fields of emerald
and ochre

Where we will dive
into ever deepening
pools of shade
floating beneath indigo sky

Let us wade
with arms wide and open

through still holy waters
of sapphire and sterling

digging caves into the
murky depths
Our feet firmly flat
on clay riverbeds

Let us breathe
our mother's majesty

Life creating life sustaining life
auras of crimson and topaz

Feel with your toes
her lush tangled mossy carpet
The dust and stone of her skin
the pureness of baptismal breath

Let us bathe
In gun metal moonlight

soaking in her eternal rays
pearl and alabaster

Drawing near, hands intertwined
at the witching hour
Even mighty Hecate
does not know this magic

8/30

What's it like 
knowing
you are going to die
without ever truly being loved?

No one has wasted time getting to
know you

Spent waking hours in the dead of night
wondering about your touch

Boiled and raged inside
with their desire to kiss
you

Wandered a lonely street
wishing
you
were by their side

Sure, many fine actors will
show up as your bell tolls

They will shed their
forced
crocodile tears
long enough for your
corpse to cool so they
can make a quick grab for your
cash

The only thing of possible value
you will leave behind

They will cry for themselves
joy at inheriting all of your
now useless and filthy paper

built on the sweat and fear and needs
and sacrifices
of
others

This was your life's work

All of us die alone
But not all of us have to die
lonely

But you will.

7/30

Good memories
live here 
too

among the dark corners
and dusty turrets
of Addams like mind-mansion

Good memories
worth shedding  
time machine tears over

surprisingly sunny days
spent in cool pool of
mother's sister

laughing cousins
Marco! Polo!
jumping in and taking off

chilly afternoons spent curled 
up with favorite novel
reminder of not being the only one

Good memories of 
brothers and sister
before the truth set in

summer nights at dusk
as records spin and inspire
sitting on roof top dreaming

middle of the day July thunderstorms 
when the sky would turn bright pink and purple
afterwards, when we dried from our rain dances

Cool evenings in front of fire pit
friends sing along to steel strings being strummed
mother ganja warming us all from inside

foggy windows of car
hidden deep in local park's trees
the air sweating with our lust

late night phone calls 
revealing who we really were
before we thought to do so online

hilariously grimy moments
I should dust off a little more often
even though I hate to clean

Good memories
live here 
too

6/30

are those
cats
fucking?
he laughingly asks

fighting, I reply

Same thing, he says

maybe to you.

No, rephrase:

certainly to you.

Houston,
we absolutely have a 
fucking problem

5/30

the bathroom door is 
closed

she must be 
drinking 
again

she does when the four of us
are left in her
reliable

(living under same roof
convenient babysitter
for party mother)

but menacing hands

I can hear her 
singing 

to herself

drawing pictures on 
the cracked and toothpaste
smeared mirror

in maroon lipstick
pulled from torn
purse pocket

(it has lived in that 
fading, nicotine stained
bag for 20 years, more)

she traces outlines of 
her aging face
leaving out the time stamps

swirl of hair line
longer than it actually is
she's young and just beginning

Her good husband 
died
car wreck
Valentine's Day
Nineteen Sixty something

I carry his name and not the
name of my mother's father

She whispers this name
over and over
Does he answer her back?

perhaps like the
Tony Todd film
he appears behind her

"Thelma, it was always you"

Her voice is slurred and
droning on
loveyouloveyouloveyoumissyou

her eyes have never
not been cruel
in the 12 years I have breathed

bathroom door creaks
open

she is smiling
a drooling terrible 
mouth

"Grandma loves you"

the gust of cheap beer stench
that will turn me away from
that amber liquid until the day I die

No matter how carefully brewed
or exotic the ingredients

lipstick faces on the mirror
life as it could have been
sorrow begets sorrow

4/30

Shhhhhh..

the needle on the record
the pungent skunk smell
clinging to the air

the voice.
THAT voice.

she knew all pain
put words to our sorrows
our temporary losses

cheap thrills?
Kozmic Blues, mama?
We didn't really know the half of it

staring at popcorn ceilings
counting nickels and dimes for
small town convenience stores

Harmon park on those cold nights

(Half Moon...night time sky...)

knowing we would leave. together.
conjoined dreams of a shared destiny?
a combination of the two

the swirl of incense
dancing to the beat
"You know that I need a man"

Only you didn't
at the time
but you needed someone

"So if someone comes along,
(S)He's gonna give you some love and affection"

teen dreams and broken hearts
she was your ball and chain
well, her fists were

"She'll do crazy things
on lonely occasions"

Sitting in that motel room.
Drinking.
Pill popping.

No wonder we loved her
She would die like our
whiskey roughened idol

Lord, Lord, Lord
Where's my color TV?

3/30 

Your heart
was calm and steady
beneath my fiery palm

You had done this before.

Do you remember mine?
like thunder raging
in my chest

My too skinny 14 year old body:
a lonely planet wracked by seismic waves
that could destroy all life

Your mouth tasted
fresh and minty
(4 out of 5 dentists... I remember thinking)

mine
a desert
waiting for the rains

To come

The silken feel of you
I had never touched someone else's
before that "no turning back" moment

Lips, tongue, teeth
too much? not enough?
Am I doing this right?

We laid on the floor
of your parent's house
beneath Christmas tree lights

You said
"I've been waiting for this"
You had planned it, after all:

You called me the weekend before
"Is it true? Are you...
Because I am.... if you need someone to talk with..."

So I stayed at a "friend's house"
But your father called me
"Another one.."

That next chilly morning

"We're used to him by now"

And after you said
"I think we'll just be friends"
And that was good

I carry this with me
I have always felt lucky
it was good

2/30

Tangible Magick

There is 

Tangible Magick

in shared
wonderment
at the:

Ebony feathered wings in flight
of a crow caught by mourn-ing sun

Pulsing shock waves of bio rhythms
rippling across the sea called Dancing Kin

Shreaking lights tearing tiny tunnels
into ever expanding inky velvetness

Tangible. Magick.
in the

Secret songs whispered by strangers on
trolley cars and sidewalks and hidden places

Vesper of voices, the beckoning laughter of
fledgling simians: raw and hairy-less

Slow and steady hum of the universal flow
gripping us tightly to this whirling rock

Tangible.

Magick.

in the

Solitary seconds of self reflection
mere moments of fleeting epiphany

Mutual ecstatic response when we're con-joy-ned
by the slippery-ness of our now common skins

Sacred and all-inclusive knowledge of cessation
of our pumping blood hearts, mammalian lungs, electro minds

And yet.

We still

Dare

to run
to breathe
to dream

Tangible. Magick.

1/30. Here we go.... 

There is
a strand of
wool in my eyes

Your
sheep's clothing seam
is showing

Slipping

Off

Your wolves' teeth
are tearing the
'oh-so-carefully'

Twisted
and
tufted
and
touseled
and
still a bit
too tawny
frame of
herded content

Shedding their
twin sutured skin
of suffering and servitude

You will

Stand

naked and proud
bloodied and howling

You will

Feast

on your leaders
as the beast
that you are