A Boy Named Weed

 All Fall

A Brad Fielder Painting

 Get the kite. Watch out for the wire.

The Long Day

Remember the time 

the bell in the clock tower

got stuck and struck

forty-seven times in a row

and everyone wanted to know

if the Rapture had happened

and, if so, what am I doing here?

Remember it took and ladder

truck from the firehouse

and a couple of firemen

to quiet the damn thing down?

It seemed like more of an

emergency than it really was.

 Apate -- Art Card series

 Collage with Gravy

 My drink for the day:

tall glass of crushed ice

juice of 2 limes

2 oz. of Stirrings' Ginger liqueur

swizzle and enjoy.

Neoteny - Art Card series

 

 04132021

Eugene was in a dream

Being a being. 

It’s a beginning.

The sound suddenly

Notified me that I’d

Left the water running.

I hadn’t. A big jet

Was landing at the

Air force base more

Than a county away.

Eugene was untied

And ready for Jack.

Coy Moon

Pink cheeked in a peek-a-boo sky

Multi warbled birds circle the dawn

while we shadow ourselves in sleep.

Have you seen fish kiss each other?

Let’s swim deeper under the covers,

warm the rainbows in our desires

with schools of sparks and swirls of

fire. Every inch I give is an offered

mile. Now it’s new. Now it’s full.

We float deep in a pearl flavored pool.

Ice Sky

Jonah Talks to Pinocchio

We’ve got this problem. It holds

us in its mouth like piece of candy.

The cave is dark and breaths wet

air. Am I white or black, wood or

fat? I keep my thoughts in clouds,

but how crazy do you have to be

to think you could ever be real?

Your father was a clock maker

and your mother was carving knife.

Mine was a whirlwind and a song.

We both escape to be trapped.

The clouds conspire and thoughts

rain down like soft silver bullets.

All along the coasts guards post

flares, search the shore for missing

puppets and prophets. Hear their

hardware slap their thighs. See

the darkness in their dilated eyes.

We hold each other inside. We

know the white outside swims

in icy water. You say, “beluga,”

and get tangled in your own strings.

The cosmos commands me to say

important things which scare me

to say. Leave me sick on the beach,

while you drift with the sticks

out beyond the blue, blue, blue.

Coat Check

We could meet in the parking lot

Of the Circle Cinema; the coffee

Shop has tasty tarts and comfy

Couches for us to share. Stir my

Cream in mystic spirals—recall

Steam over winter grates, clouds

Like meringue toasted in sun fall,

We were women in long clothes,

Ornamental metals chained around

our necks. In the second it takes to

Spin I have fallen in love with your

Chin and how your laughs sound.

Brown leaves as frozen as green

Buds in glaze, the season wheels

Like a drunken cinematographer

Who tries to tell what kisses mean.

National Auto

The dealership by the highway

Never takes down the fleet flag

In its floodlights and flash,

Though, because of another

Meaningless American massacre,

It is at half-staff.  

     Past midnight

In a winter storm, hail and freezing

Rain, the seams have come un-

Done among the strips.

   A body

Of blue, the stars freeze silver.

Red ribbons and white bandages

Like tentacles coil the harpoon pole.

How fast can you drive on ice?

How far?

Reflection in Difference

My chiral lover from long ago

Don’t make me sad. Say, “told

You so.” I think I do not want

To know, or impose once more.

Peripheral to lives we’ve lived

Apart and still a part of today,

I could grab your hand and find

It warm. I missed your wave

From the window as I drove

Away into the rain, the night,

Drove away from this time.

Knightly Dreams

Boiler plate on my breast

With a crest of crossed fingers

I consult my arsenal, the ideal,

Like a falcon hooded on my wrist.

I campaign for the honest truth,

Love from lust to brotherhood.

Come, run with me. Noble,

Wild as mountains or wind.

We flow together, one in blood.

Years have turned and gone, heart,

Since I touched your shiny lips,

Your laugh warm against my neck.

I will not let your death be quiet.

Though my broken voice ages

What we share will fill pages.

Log In (a paste poem in memory of J.A.)

Got it wrong in the past, rewrite it.

The normal rules of nature do not apply.

It makes individuals sensitive to context,

Regardless of the level of existence.

The peach harvest is way down in Georgia.

Sensitive to context and 'open' to change

what does apply? A two-pronged approach

helps us adapt to adversity. Push RESET.

It has practical applications. By backing up

You watch where you no longer are.

Kick in to rapidly open a window.

Strike out to emphasize the need.

Enter into a more adaptive or 'plastic' state—

The idea becomes paradoxical, a contradiction.

Aren't we surprised that it might be possible?

Imagine “I’m melting” as permanent lifestyle.

We need to pay more attention to context.

Consciousness seems to be always continuous.

Reconfigure the juxtapositions. Slice and dice

Existence at the interstices ≈ the swerve.

I believe this is the future to believe in

Again. The illusions vanish but reflect

Caught in headlights at noon—BOOM!

There are no perceivable edges, only ends.

Doesn't Say Much

Blues in Green