Thursday, November 17, 2011



Under the Hat
Under the party hat
Bright smiles and all that
Stitches on bald head
No one can gasp at


Layer by layer
Peels drop to the bedroom floor
Sweet juicy orange

Slowly each fabric covered button
Slid between pale buffed crescent nails
Perfectly manicured trembling
Open as a curtain
On opening night before an expectant audience
Of one
Reveal the healed gashed chest
Smooth as cool marble
To his reaching hands


Round about the waist
Food has lost its taste
The stick says no, no, no
The face contradicts with knowing glow

On a ship in the middle of the sea
At a fancy black tied swirled dress party
Over a back fence
In a shop counting out some pence
Happen here or there
Always without care
The tongue slides and then a blip
An irretrievable, sudden slip


“Some of my best friends are just like you”
Say they
Exposing what is really true

Any Flag
under fingernails brushed clean
home again after whatever arena scene
clapped upon the back for serving one’s country well
horror of blooded stain; the soldier’s private hellish tell

Under the blanket of
Impending death riding
The coming frigid air
Burrowed deep
In patient poise
The rose sleeps

Showers in the Morning
Joyous baby boy
Kicking feet up in the air
Golden shower arcs


In a shaking withered hand
Tightly crumpled the month’s last
Five dollar bill pressed into the
Hand of the empty-eyed boy
Huddled on the cold corner


Under the furrowed brow
Giggles bursting now



For some revealed in each tumbled dancing sun dust mote
For others in a book where it has been wrote
For another on the magic fingernails of the newly born
Or atop a craggy mountaintop at purple crimsoned dawn
Hints heard about in a bush that did brightly burn
Others acknowledge all above
See also a human deficit in grace, compassion, love
Scattered ashes still gathering in time’s slow
Far too much left to coalesce, feel and learn

Others acknowledge all above
See also a universal deficit in grace, compassion and love
Scattered ashes still gathering in time’s slow turn
Far too much left to coalesce, to feel, to learn

The Reveal

Music pounds through and past
Pulsing just post- pubescent wetted unshaved lip
As satin thong lowers impossibly lower still on a gyrating hip

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