Poem #23 Take her, lift her, look at her

Take her, lift her, look at her

Hidden spirits, injured and

upward ghostly,

unknown dreams,

told beneath the flames.

Take her , lift her, look at her-

Her body is an ornament-

Touch her, think of her,

now pure, free of scrutiny.

Past dishonored but still fair for the rarity.

Lamps quiver, a light houseless-

The bleak wind ends it.

A picture untaken, to rigid-

So blindly known to darkness,

burning her hands on a cold flame.

Happy Sad immorality, her evil, her sins

The dream of happy gamesome minds,

turning apart, leaning on black stoned walls.

Take her, lift her, look at her.

Read from the book.

The black one with the golden trimming.

Feet upright, some historic pages;

Read those-

The ones on suffering, on grief-

Speaking to all times and all life.

Poem #22 Sometimes Hear Besides Pleasant Whining

Sometimes hear besides pleasant whining

a chatter where inexplicable splendor of man

stands garbed shameless in nothing,

sails wide past beating oars of dreams,

carried down the stream of promised comment,

A new start under feet, nothing but dirty hands.

Humble people- nothing they came,

burning heart still lit in flames till bones were seen.

Deep sea, swell in whispers of age,

youth the whirlpool of life,

once handsome and tall, as are you now

come torchlight

 red of the crying rebellion of stony places-

little patience down sandy rocks.

Poem #21 An Artist

You and I painted

I will never see that picture

mused on outlined importance

forever fresh drops of pricked sigma

certain people lathed to live, to love,

 wickedness standing

we stopped painting tenderness

its daily dreadful line

to trace and retrace it

and they say: when does the heart lie?

I say but fifty other times.

no artist lives only once

fair and simple

living like butter neatly spread

on American white wheat bread

a proper dowry sorrow shed

triumph wiped their mouths

throwing thanks for old memories

Poem #20 My Every Poem

errors return my blushing print

true small judges

all bolded words

reading list of a lengthy affection

a life before a facsimile

in the process of becoming

emendation out of door

hobbling in my mind

feet a flaw, unfit for light

a brat of my own

pressed ill formed

a misspelling a misprinting

irksome vulgar

rambling visage

meaning poor

my friends a public view

naught in this array

Poem #19 Accidents

A note from my bicycle

Dismounted stood there on the arm

Of my last ear

My eyes open disappearing

Took out half a dozen angels

A warning sign.

Smelling oranges

In the breezeway

Till I felt a sudden fear.

A cry, a shout, and suddenly I was here.

Poem #18 Romance: An Upkeep of Sidelong Glances

Vats upon tippled turn

such inebriate

pearl a summer day

when butterflies swing kisses of air

drink till weeping

on another lust and

forgive

loved out of measure

and out of turn

kisses cross

romance: an upkeep of sidelong glances

a rag called woman

his lady fair

you and I

years worked to never know

Poem #17 War

Arms carry it more

Running down the center aisle

Looking outside in a fish bowl

Punctuate this

Open usher gazed at like a crocodile

History of both syllables ba-sic

two long epochs of plenty to each other

give us music for our architecture

Poem #16 Shagging Distant Misery

Belief whispered shook her head

“You mustn’t

A million years you can change it

Can’t

Down again

What about us

I don’t know

Go on

This way

Destiny drunk by eight o’ clock

Bought a ticket

Couldn’t miss a go through her heart

Time come back telling me reason

She did that

Yes

You where there

I was there

 . . . telling me . . .

White gowned instant clamor

Pffft

It takes all kinds doesn’t it

Joking you were joking

Got a clever picture out of that

She’s never seen a thing like that

Only little boys

Good for her

Cause he don’t like people

Only little boys

Maybe in the light

She looked like one

This isn’t just something

You can tell stories about

Takes trips every afternoon

You have to be polite and introduce people

Why so hung up on a held out gun 

Poem #15 In five minutes there might be a misunderstanding

in five minutes there might be

a misunderstanding

pillars of compared homestead

dropped in to afternoon tea

only two women came out of

faraway places

world for their secret well

heavy man Eden in wanderings

shoulder judgment on the railway

to etiquette

a stranger to free privileges

eyes a grave even when the sun touches it

the smile never became a habit.

perhaps kindness for to many years

putting flowers in a vase

but I’m serious, do you  care for me?

how can you ask it

waiting for a bottled answer

in a drawing room of over-vehement love

drank in civilization

happy golden saints to draw

work for an age to blame

joy limping on some private owned property

faith an old idol long spent. 

Poem #14 Human Pressed Paper

Careless ambiguities—

Not smart enough—

Seen dissolving

into cages humbly,

sealed his jars

of history.

Some left names.

Others left words.

Some left monuments.

Some left deeds.

I will leave only

faded dreams,

painted on a rusty

human press paper.

Poem 13# Blackwell Monograph

Chairman on to the bed

The marry misgiving action

Bagged problem,

At any time that suits him

Back screaming

Looks up at the ceiling

Everything comes out in the wash

Sooner or later. 

Poem #12 Sometimes hear beside pleasant whining

sometimes hear beside pleasant whining

a chatter the inexplicable splendor of man

stands garbed shameless in nothing

sails wide past beating oars of dreams

carried down the steam of promised comment

a new start under feet nothing but dirty hands,

 humble people- nothing then came

burning heart still lit in flames till bones are seen

deep sea swell in whispers of age

youth the whirlpool of life

once hansom and tall as you now are come torchlight

 red of the crying rebellion of stony places

little patience running down sandy rocks.

Poem #11 conclusively overhung admiration of big horses accidents

ventured that very conclusively overhung admiration of big horses accidents

get up to fresh suspicion

always clinging to one’s sheet

subpar partnered translation

sleeping sideways

with the back to the door

only a brief moment of interest

picking the seams of a saddle bag

eating at the deli— haven’s stick

excursions of infinite naught

driving up a huddle fill

fear grasses busily in the will

with no one to blame

red cavalries little wars

trooping trooping no more

paying at the window

Now—no—never at the door,

passing on the floor.

Poem #10 Party of hands

Bothered to jurisdiction

Getting in trying to put it out

Pick delegate treaty

on tyranny out one hand

Wrapped clutching moment satisfied

Demanded out of rights

Better let him have his way

Party of hands

Business is business

On the dotted line

Weathered in smiles

Rolling from their souls

Liquid happiness

Ahem

A few extra arms

Poem #9 The trouble with everyone

Someday would be better than ever.

Good morning with an uneasy feeling underneath

If you took over looking so busy

Never gotten married to her sympathy

When they both grew up

With a hint of greasiness

He’s been asking the neighbors if they object

What have they to do with it?

Leading people, wander love

But I notice things

Got out of doors

Because of course things happen and all that

And of course

Listen! Tired right locality come back

Likes she’s going to marry him

Settle anywhere

Someday would be better than ever

Poem #8 An exertion

I know a woman who got in fights with a cry concerning no one

Never feels the life leave: a smoked out ambition,

Never building a domestic project an urban fantasia

Never kicking out the busy cry of life’s conflict

I know a woman who got in fights with a cry concerning no one

Someone else’s project a masque epitaph beyond unpurged squiggling

today leaves still full of yesterday’s shades and shapes proud novelties

We are where we began- staring at opposing windows of the winking will

I know a woman who got in fights with a cry concerning no one

clear bawdiness indulged in haunted heaven of the moral law

Hankering clear smoking jovial well stuffed conscience

Hanging on nothingness of a little less

Poem #7 Gather you famine and bigotry

My country! My country!

On the neck like a day owned husband.

suppered strange men

with the little news— gone stray

sit right down to his choicest lies

three miles away wears a silk dress

make mischief back up bewailing

slackers, clackers, crackers,

schooling an argument

failing to move me

entitled happiness wild and wooly

representation of deeply sorry days

underdrawn by my country

my country!

my country amazed me

together the language was

blushed similar terms of common sense

forgotten in sermons

selling these bewildered ears anything

one child the devil

because he said something complimentary

forgotten little fortune

nothing like America

why?

Gather you famine and bigotry 

Poem #6 little domestic gods

Prudishness in need of sofas

the edge of possibility on couches

peeped above a wooden will.

overrun searching fairer gaze surly tired

all day long call with a basket of a smile

if Venus came I’d mistake her for you

suckled sun felicity a witch

smolder the half tell me of the toppled (topless) vision

where are you ? A few wrong answers back.

flame concubines  sweet look cut back

silver sisters reticence

filling mine today falling inaugurates

hanging stiff in a garden of deceit

baked of homemade superstitions

under the sanctions of men

little domestic gods

Poem #5 On centipedes crushed on the sidewalk

Tuffled mound, of vagrant plants of morality.

And the neglected ranky gray imagination

of misused misunderstood leisure;

on centipedes crushed on the sidewalk.

Coping stone of childlike misery,

overgrown ideas to haunt one.

In the tide of adult life,

like cobwebs purposefully hung,

to catch the consumer.

Flies caught on the glass door.

The procession of the mazy tangle ideas,

with no solution in the ghastly halls of the begot race.

Keyholes to the new century,

marked by hieroglyphic scenes of modern fantasy.

The rat like social channels of ideals-

Cookie cutter shapes to hide the nameless bastards

 meaningless rebellion of bees, that will not make honey.

And at the end cambers of awful speculation,

The antlike hope for end of the world phenomenon.

Embroidered at the gloomy entrance of stores

are meagerly paid people, already celebrating valentine’s day

 on the first day of the new year. 

Poem #4 Gynarchy

its obvious only near the window

souls for sale second hand

golden fiddles fair struck

elfin red of inquiry

its obvious only near the window

master of sorrow

blasting boasts

bound in chains

beat open contrite

we are not prisoners

put into life

an adopted spectacle

a painting by Rembrandt

its obvious only near the window

able things our daily life

might say

between the depth of the individual

its obvious only near the window

Poem #3 Wasting Revenge

The awfully daily knowledge squeezed into plastic bottles

Put onto the sea.

Most people know an inspiration once

Fifty stars, bright white.

The little revolutionary built ships from leaves

But can’t remember to say hello. 

Poem #2 former relationship

inspired to submit

out of hand calls

perpetrating a fraud

livid and tosses a cup of

fantasy

people like me can’t inhabit

scarce employment

Poem #1 Tastes Like You

Not like pumpkin soup

Tastes like you

Stares straight nonchalantly

I feel too much I swallow too much

Tastes like vomit

Apathy causes it to rebel against you

Smells like vomit

Eating unchanging lines

Do not say

now I will