entertaining monkey

hear that cymbal clapping

it’s not me

see that foot a tapping

it’s not me

I work the underbelly

stroke the muse a plenty

go down on her and

make her scream

the audience is just a dream

Mother’s Day

I searched for that snapshot of you
the one from the family such as it was
the one from the picnic
such as it was you were
indecisive, in summer
surrounded by strangers
your family, that anger
you were beautiful, noisy and
indecisive then
apart from the rest of those
who were religious and proud
I’m lazy at best
and came up with this one
culled from the nest
I had decided to leave
when I knew you were dangerous
when I knew you
were far from me
when I knew you were partly me
who was beautiful once
noisy and proud
I can see myself here
in a liar’s garb
next to my sister who
left everything disturbed
I grin like the hostage
sure of release
I grin again and
shall never please
the one from the family such as it was
she who came madly
and left me to dust
I grin like a drunkard on
an uneven keel
my mother, my lifeline

my buried at sea

how I remember you
is how I will
because everything that was
comes back to the is
nothing changes that
not gratitude
not meditation
not even lines of demarcation
glass is us the sisters of soul
you made that call
I went along
the broken moonlight
our historic reflections
choose me for direction
how I remember you
is what will recede
caught in conversation
arranged by intention
a dubious move
in lieu of gratitude
how I remember you
is how I will
how you remember me
is your memory to fill

Loss

loss is gain is earth
is pain is sun is
rain is friendship dying
growth is new is ground
blue is meant for flying

death is newer fruit
is ripe and won is
worth is sisters crying
gratitude is found
even in the lying

life is data search
is then the sum of
panning for the golden
new is lost and wound
tighter than the runoff

right is wrong again
is still the burn off
on a friendless wind storm
sisters soulless found
nothing beats a sun roof

storm is calm again
is buried under
decades of intention
right is wronged renowned
living neat living sound

living quiet
dying loud

For B. For now…

In a heap or a drift
in an eye gone to sleep
in a castle near flooded
when the tide turns to creep
and you’re swimming in sand
married into
the short and the sweet
when wedded to the
grains of the wrong man
the time comes to leave him
the times comes to flee
in a heap or a drift
you run to the sea
and she gives you, the sea
an abundance of ardor
she gives you the free
she fastens the leftover
layers of you
in a heap or a drift
you run for the sake
of your murdered past
that unruly unwashed
essence of you
and you fly when you meet him
and then sink like a sin
you lie in the lonely
when you are sure of him
and bask in the possible
scowl at the laughable
in a heap or a drift
in an eye gone to sleep
in a castle near flooded
when the tide turns to creep
and you’re swimming in sand
when you are married into
the short and the sweet
when wedded to the
strains of the right man
you still fill your glass
with deniable fright
you still fill your glass
while he sleeps through the night
and you say
my love, my sandstorm
my form
my son of god
I am yours in the norm
with a handshake
I mourn
with a drunken nod
life without music
this language you gave me
In a heap or a drift
in an eye gone to sleep
in a castle near flooded
when the tide turns to creep
and you’re swimming in sand
when you are married into
the tugboat that saves you
on a wave of the likes
of jaco pastorius
on a wave that includes
only the two of us
in a heap or a drift
in an eye gone to sleep
I curl like a slug
on a newly born leaf

I miss certain beings

transient, invisible dreamworthy sorts

they flit in my uppermost afterword thoughts

some I have hated

or have hated me

others refrained from the
loud limb of the tree that

I crawled out on in drunken reverie

I went to a protest

and questioned the act

familiar yes

but still after the fact

marching and chanting

for all that is worth

eyes askance at the  formidable earth

it’s digging I say

that make things grow

not the repeatedly

unerring courtroom of know

I miss certain things

loudly visibly angered retorts

on busses to places that dropped us

in parking lots  full of the faceless
in innocent cases

I miss certain things that removed my braces

the chalky teeth underneath

is just about aging

No matter, I speak

No matter, I write

No matter, I vote or I don’t vote tonight

 the message like a sheet

over the drunkards reborn

is hanged out to dry

in the sun of our norm

I miss certain things I may well have to lose

this is mine

this was yours
in a cliff dwellers remove

you may laugh you may scorn

those urban trifles

all there is to prove

are existentialist rifles

One shot
one win

totally zen

I miss certain things again and again.

soap opera eyes

rise in octave hearts

bewildered in chance and

reminded at starts

that the light above is

the big light

that the light above is

the first light

you see in childy romance

the light that you see

forever in mid-chance

the big light is yours

and mine in our histories

we have no refined mystery

we cling to the murder,

the pain and the laughter

soap opera eyes
in the pleasant hereafter

sleep uneasily

open eyes heedlessly

once and again in

past gruesome romance

there’s that train whistle

as I clutch my truth pants

soap opera eyes

have the stuff I revere

uppity, negroid, astonished and queer

I’m old now

heedlessly charting my

life with you

we’re okay now

finally out of the blue

we’re okay now

and I am heedlessly loving you
we’re okay now and
flailing anew