all of a sudden passion suddenly

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rambledown
lobster towns
coast road
with Miles
sketching Spain
and long quiet
stretches
no words
can
improve.

lil craggy trail
careful
cliffs are high
dwarf cedar
stand with
ancient beds
of shedded dreams.

here-lets plop down here.
 
there I go
over the edge
waving good bye
hair unruffled
pubes holding
gesticulation
lower lower
 
tangible things like rings
and clothes and cars
bouquets of roses
Godiva candy bars

things are alright
but I prefer
those things intangible
that didn’t cost you very much

those things not countable
but hoarded; squirreled away
like golden nuts

the way your fingers
might have tickled my skin
and the kisses that weren’t
but should have been

intangible feelings
or no feelings at all
conjure fears of falling
without you
here to catch me
 
funny banjo plays
bliss
and, oh, the brush
of your
kiss.

arrows in
my quiver
happy feet dance
and hearts shiver.
 
On walking late at night.

Cold blue, numb swept,
Emotionless.
Standing, frozen,
Motionless.
Yearning, waiting,
Anticipating nothing.
Stagnant, turning,
Folding inward.
Safe at last.
 
home jumps out
and its a silent dream-
a street where the houses all
have
lites.

lites on the roofs
along the soffets
and im just dreaming
red
green
yellow
blue.
 
Milk
is the word of the day
when a frost bitten dawn
coats the still green
grass underneath
like crystalised milk

Milk
is the word
and milk is the world
when the sea of east
meets the northern
winter swept down
drawing whisps, patches
and curtains of water
into a smooth wall
of shiny white milk

Milk
all around me
on the balcony
through milk I see
like grains of cereal
in pale white distance
in the giant curved
petals of the
highway intersection
swirls

And we're all
out of milk
 
Darkmaas considers a dinner paradox

Two ducks await their fate.
We're having guests for dinner.
Doctors both
professors
of Boolean logic

If a pair o' docs
eat a pair o' ducks
but one's a vegetarian

no paradox

one doc
two ducks
it's a simple calculation

But suppose the laws of nature
were complete and quite reversible
Could a pair o' ducks
eat a pair o' docs

What of the vegetarian?
 
Poems are plotted
and prodded
and pulled
and pinched
and pushed
and punched
to perfection
But don't deserve
the cliche of clay
this
is a latch-hook legacy
Words knotted or woven
and kneaded
and pulled through
so each may stand
solidly in solidarity
but together translate
convex cartoons
of balloons and bunnies
flags and felines
lions and lime sherbet cones
each effort evident
straining against substance
bending, but not breaking through
I ponder and pine
why I weave
instead of sculpt
Resulting in revolting
Latch-hook legacies
Not clay cliche
Or marble magnificents
 
The record player
Scratches out memories.
Old songs haunt me
With what might have been
I travel back in time
To when decadence
Was treated with reverence.
Footloose travels on a whim
To see a site, to see a movie,
To see a friend.
Ah friends…
Friends to the end of time
Have found the end
Of their time.
Did time stand still
Or did the sand run out?
I’ve gone from wishing time away
To hoping to find another minute
Another hour, another day.
I say no regrets, regretfully.
Ignoring the ghosts
Of lost dreams.
Until the song ends,
The needle lifts
And the record player
Turns itself off.
 
Do you know how hard it is
to make an apple pie
when talking to a girl
who makes your apples
laugh

try it sometime

You'll gather all your ingredients
then speak of sorrow
into the phone
and she'll lift your spirits
as the peels
come off
your flesh

You'll quiet
as she reads you poetry
stuff she's never even
heard before
but to you
it's sugar and spice
and everything that's
her

And while you're waiting
for your dough
to chill
she'll wait for you
to write this poem
even though you know
it's only
half baked
 
A bus crashed last night
Broke bones and shards of glass
Wounded flesh and innocence
Shook the community to the core
And we screamed silently
Prayed loudly
Heard the echo of our prayers
In the hollow of the halls
We were blessed, but broken
Lucky, but shaken
Fortunate, but torn

And today I sought embrace
In a voice on a coast I've yet to see
In a hand of a girl I've yet to meet
And she laughed
And the month of discomfort
Slid away
Like that bus in reverse
Sliding up
Back up
To normal
To right
 
Cyberia

Jacked my deck
Sendai 606
Chiba City buzz.
It’s High Castle madness.

Spam shields up!
Jesus,
that was close.
Who are those guys?

Libido low,
so
splash a dash o’
sexocean.
Blood rush down.

Cool now,
semi-hard,
all business.

So I hit the Lit. and
what do I find?
Someone fed the freakin’ denis.
Like he ain’t no sushi.

Ready for the
“Last Flesh Baby” Waltz?
Three-four time
only hurts a bit.
Slow those neural nodes
and dream electric sheep.
 
need you
and i don't want to
it doesn't make sense
that i always want you.

i've never depended on anyone
i've never needed anything
but i crave you.

you're like a drug
seeping through my skin
intoxicating me
with your scent
with your touch
with your kiss.

most of all, you intoxicate me
with your words
with your mind
with your heart.

need you
and i don't want to.
it doesn't make sense
that i always want you.

i've never depended on anyone
i've never needed anything
but i crave you.

and you tug on me
and keep me in your heart
and in your mind.

you miss me
you love me
you respect me.

stop doing that, because then
i'll never let you go.
 
Seeing you appear in a dream that was not my own
had me believing in the the mirror image of your envied lover.
I threw a stone and watched my relection shatter
and hit the floor.

Alone I slowly sink into the familiar sea of self pity.
I was only trying to drown my broken heart.

Later on, as I remember the way we were I refused to let the puzzle pieces fall apart.

Quietly I turn to you with open arms
with a porpusful lack of sensibility I sweep a thousand lies beneth my bed.

In the shallow water of my shower I remember all the things I wish I hadn't said.
 
left to my own devices
i find myself wondering
what is the point of all this?

left to find my way
i was a mess, wandering
with no goals or future.

left to fend for myself
i had no place to call mine
and nothing to give me comfort.

left to my own devices
i find myself despairing
at the short life i've lived.
 
What would I rage against if it weren’t for the dying of the light?
And what my dawn be if I hadn’t been through the night?

What would I know if I was never wrong and always right?
and how brave would I be if I never had to fight?


See sometimes in life the questions are more important than the answers
because the answer is without the question is meaningless

and maybe this means less
knowing

but the truth is I don’t want to know it all
all I want to know is how to think

and maybe the world isn’t rosy and pink
but it’s just as well because I like all the colors
I like the blue and the red and the orange
black and white
even shades of gray and such
it keeps me in touch
with the plan

and with everything I claim to know
I still don’t understand
like the tree of knowledge
doesn’t do anything but make me self conscious
so I drop the fruit
but the lesson I learned in time
is the branch cannot bear fruit except through
the vine
it’s so divine
like water into wine
and so much more
I was who I am before I was formed
and now I free to be me
more than ever before
and there’s so much more
in store.
 
Barracuda heart
Or just a Rainbow Fish
Keep your tuna salad
Cause caviar is my dish
 
too dreary
too saturday morning
too damn long
from head to hand
I think, misfire, go back again
rinse, repeat, repeat, repeat
fail more fail over
a presicion task
preformed by drunken
hands in boxing gloves
too damn far
from mind to muscle
foggy, fuzzy, foggy, foggy
just trying to get
out of bed
dammit
 
A job is something you have to have
And work is just that...work
My dad would say to me
Today I could prove him wrong
And I would say to him:
Dad, do you know what it's like
To love your job?
To look into the eyes of
The most troublesome of students
And see the dawn of a new day?
Do you know what it's like
To adore what you do?
To listen to their voices
As they chatter on, excitedly
As if they had won the lottery?
Do you know what it's like
To finally be proud of your position?
That pride rising like
The sun on fast-forward
To settle permanently at noon?
Because I do.
And all I have to say is that
Work is, indeed, work
But what I have is a career.
 
Cold and crisp
two girls on ponies,
blonde on palomino
brown on bay,
canter across the frozen fields
dusted with a haze of freshly fallen snow
weaving an equine dance.

Laughing.

I stand beside a ruined homestead
built two centuries ago
by refugees from the New England mobs.
Just a foundation and chimney now,
atop a frozen knoll.

Suddenly they appear
from behind the knoll.
They wheel around me
whooping savage
flesh and leather
hoof and steel.
A brief moment I am
eye-to-eye with the bay,
nostrils flared
blowing steam,
both near panic.
Then they are gone,
laughing,
horse-butts across the field
kicking up a crystal dust
that slowly settles
sparkling diamonds
in the cold sunshine.

Later as we walk back
the brunet says
to the blonde
‘sotto voce' like,
“Bet my dad
almost shit himself
when we buzzed him.”
“ Young equestrians
usually refrain
from barn talk
in the presence of their elders.”
was my best response.
“Lucky for you your mother
is not here.”
was lost as they giggled
and trotted off.
 
yes, with temple veined throbbing
purple passions I detest
my sister's skinny friend, the man
and the girls who accompany him

deliver false hope in corners
of baggies and little girls watch
from front porch steps knowing
they won't be at school tomorrow

and the lights might not last till Friday
but what does she care
she's all warm inside her selfish shell
but her skin is pale and dead

as pencil lipped boy, with his cactus
prodding finger,smiles pockets filled
as he extracts her life and her money
blows away like dust in wind
 
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