funny, how fedoras look
out of place today
incongruous
anachronistic
on the wrong face

It’s Tuesday and I gotta mount that colt.
The groundwork’s not gone well~ he tends to bolt.
But I been paid and gotta get it done.
We need no more than walk…don’t wanna run.
He’s cinched up slow as always. That’s our way.
The greenhorns think he only wants to play.
They point with greenhorn fingers while they laugh
when flips his damn, fool head like some giraffe.
But somehow we get bridled ere it’s noon.
I think he’s only gazin’ at the moon
and settin’ up to take a careful aim.

Soft wavelets grip and grasp a gleam of light
as if to poke and play curtsy and bow.
This welcomed dance as eyes coerce delight,
is altered with the gifts that they endow.
Such sway could swoon the darkest part of night
enhanced by joy upon a beaded brow
and rhythm spun would turn a tune to sing
with diamond sparkled gems to wed the spring.

To feel
a great passion
deep within
knowing
it is but a dream
To have lived that moment
traveling
on endless waves of love
holding it
believing it will live on
for eternity

Oh truth,
please do not
let me see
the end of this
which I think will
make me live
for it is death
to be without the touch
of a heart
that lives inside
my very being

I still remember your smile,
a distant promise on your lips,
and the brownest eyes
calmly speared my ignorance

you became my private cosmos,
who could make the sun weep
unlocking a primordial shiver
my gentlest destroyer:

nor the world's strongest army
could offer
when your hands spoke
of intimacy
melted heavens with hells
into an eternal sunset:
magic in the smallest gesture awoke

THE CRUISE

We sailed their yacht to paradise,
At least that’s what it seemed.
White coral sand, blue sea, green palms,
The place we all had dreamed.

We’d had our plans made for a while,
To steal their yacht and run;
We meant the pair no harm - I swear,
But the old man pulled a gun.

Overpowered and beat up some,
Now both too scared to speak-
They can’t be found, both had to drown,
So their lifeboat sprung a leak.

Step into My Parlor (said the spider to the fly)

There are those who will tear down
Everything that’s great
They complain about the world
And the food upon their plate

They would not be happy
If they could not complain
So they voice their misery
Make others groan with pain

Anything that may be great
They want to make it bad
Find everything that’s wrong with it
because it makes them glad

My heart breaks, for your adoration
My heart yearns, for your admiration
These arms are too short, to reach your heart

I think about you all the time
I imagine we are as one, making love to Roy C’s “I’ll always love you”
And dancing to Isaac Hayes “Stand Accused”

One day, I look to see your face appear in my presence
I sense, I will melt leaving a stain on the floor
Just like the wicked witch of the west

As I take my final steps
before I rest in peace
I reflect on our lives
and what you meant to me

Through my cloudy cataract
I clearly see you
holding my wrinkled hand
My handsome old man

Through my faulty ears
I can hear you say
“You still look as beautiful
with your lovely grey”

My trembling fingers
won’t let me write much more
But my toothless smile
wants you to know for sure

alone is
often the part
women deal with sufficiently
the knowing of silence
its lack of voice

i find myself hollowed out
a tree being tapped from
the inside

echo's string themselves
across empty horizons

some days i hear beauty
in the grasp of solitude
release my fists and
roll them out to
open palms

i have no idea
what i expect to land there

perhaps the screams
of a once loved heart
searching for a new home