July 3, 2016

after the gloaming light has left you with disguise

Cloning Eve/Viagra Falls, 1999
Masami Teraoka ©

cellar-ed\/cask-ed ripe(s)

bargain :
get away with 
muster courage enough 
pray prey 
every god 
and goddess 
who decided 
to stay human 
too long 

it isn't always all 
subtext sexual 
mythological references 
but it is 
darn near close 
to that 
vat crawl 
tide flow 
spawn velvet on a rope 
fob light at night 
entertained right 
event horizon
falling is flying 
spaghetti-fied innards 
stream data 
meta hunger 
energy is constant 
form is not 
norm is rot 
find your reality 
shell yours mine 
or at least 
put jagged teeth 
on the brittle 

hip holster hugged 
she swore by 
a 357 and Chrysler Imperial 
black on black chrome 
red lined tires 
it was 
her Persephone 
get up 

you saw I saw 
nose banquet guests
the ways we spill 
morning dagger fights 
last night 
in height 
then plunge 
review charted 
glow billow 
bellow low 
blank canvas thoughts 
terra cotta roofs 
dot tree lined 
vineyard plots 
drip wobble fabric 
coming from tonguing
the mountains 
and sky 
between us 
and them 

altar room 
in the valleys
enough to play 
every god and goddess 
church that 
may deed someday 
come to know 
some one 
above maybe 
or might be 
osmosis glove 
inside baby 
inside the
of love's 
first time 

I shove a bit 
you say it 
is, a bitten world 

there are boundaries 
brandished plates 
and distrust 
rentals ready  
steadily increased 
in intensity 
and ability ... love 
as an incremental ornament 
memento sunrise recollection 
peddler lane pushcart Moon 
siphoning humanity's joy 
ritual hitched hiccups herd
looped lunar laconic ruptured 
solarium daedaleum 
we cut ourselves 
to wash 
and writhe 
animate \cinema- consume 

here is served 
too slow to notice 
as we would 
a smile 
as a child 
when we used to be 
somewhat more innocent 
and not capable 
of being 
or b ecoming 
old pearls



  1. I really like this section:

    "as an incremental ornament memento sunrise recollection peddler lane pushcart Moon siphoning humanity's joy ritual hitched hiccups herd looped lunar laconic ruptured solarium daedaleum we cut ourselves to wash and writhe"

    1. Thank you, this one wrote itself falling back into an a muse-ing energy field ... a staccato petal forest of knifed fingers, warm just right porridge, rhythm and purpose intertwined, rust and other fires that take time, you find fined is surrender's power of behold ... though that is just my perspective ... seems color is an elective ... but that section was definitely meant to invoke a feel of the twirl images of life in the carousel motion of dizzy sometimes ... i. e. zoetrope storyboarding of fantasy

    2. I see "as an ink, re-mental (or re-men-tall)" ... So, when you write, or become ink, or become the poem, or get a tatoo, go back to completely using your head ... go all-in with the brain. Forget the body and the heart. Be the thought process. Also, go back to being all man, standing tall. Proud. Be your brain, and be proud of it.

  2. I see "hornament memento: sunrise." As if your Pan is hiding in plain sight in the essence of first light, for all to see, but everyone's sleeping. Not you though. Not you.

    That's exactly what a poet is ... a recollection peddler. And sometimes, like you, a re-collection peddler. Also pedal-er, because obviously a poet should ride a bike.

  3. And of course the moon is a homeless can collector. That is exactly how she would go about it. And now I'm wondering who she might be hiding inside while she's abandoning her station in the sky and her reflection in water. She's in someone's eyes ... probably taking sky and water with her ... maybe she's in yours. Or maybe in a pair you'll come across while sidewalk-gathering. You never do know.