cubicle diptych

cubicle woman
The moments slither by if you forget they’re there. Sucking in sweetness, hot sugared coffee, aroma of memory.
It might be a sluggish, clammy descent of summer afternoon. Hints of autumn like blackberry spicing the air.
The people here are decent. They smile to make conversation a pleasant bit of business.
They want me to feel safe, subdued. It doesn’t matter that we are never more than strangers,
passing faces, complaisant. They bring me coffee with sugar and plastic sticks for stirring.
In this moment all of the world turns so skillfully I move along without pause for acknowledgement,
stealthily aware.
Cubicle Woman and me
The minutes move slowly, floating
through non-uniform atmospheric fluctuations.
Here is solid, always, interminable.
A small, dark woman,
waiflike were she not so clearly lined
from age or weathering.
Her movements almost frail,
yet surely intentioned.
Motion as one in a dream
where objects may so easily
Not like this solid place, this
monastery of healing.
All in gradations of white;
air almost frigidly white
welcome in the fever.
White walls, clarified space
take well to imagery.
Vivid primitive paintings
cadmium yellow, vermillion, cobalt blue
flash, mutating here to there.
We are in an old, classic movie
of danger and romance.
Unaware of my surveillance,
silently, without smile or frown,
she stirs sugar from bright white packets
into her curl of steam
hearth and home.

Sun in Pisces/Moon in Aquarius

Lilting spirit out of body.
Purified energy
merged as music.  Ethereal merriment,  
outside law or obligation.
Reinstate rites of bursting lights, elation,
ascent on flagrant song, sustained laughter,
twirl of ecstasy beyond reason or ration.
Reinstate quiet sunrise
vibration, pine and wild roses,
limitless sky entertaining majestic formations of earth,
sublime passion embraced with profound reflection,
all orchestrated in bold tones, exquisite complexity
and simple truth.
Take me there. Let me fly
forever undisturbed by a need to touch down.

marching to Bethlehem

Things fall apart.
The center does not hold.
We, along the periphery
dissemble for survival.
All our pretty goals
dissolving in the face
inevitable despair brings.
The wise babble desperate incantations.
The weak of will and mind
sing Hallelujahs and kick the peasants
as they pass.
Perhaps we are in the hallway
of a great reckoning.
Mad Earth grumbles loudly,
threatens to rescind Her bounty.
Men of illwill, men of destiny
proudly proclaim their birthright
to pillage, to plunder, to prey upon
chaos, annihilation.
If only the poets sang truth in such
majestic certainty, with such
charismatic humor and allure.
Things fall apart
Here, along the periphery
we carry our burdens,
sink ever more deeply
into rotten crevices
singing our selves
into sleep.


Red wine
white russians
the blues
A dark bar cafe
in the rain; in the snow;
in the freakin’ blizzard!
You w/o me; me w/o you
writing woe insane intimate journals
“let you see mine, if you let me see yrs”
No, I don’t say that out loud.
I watch you
between frantic scribbling.
I imagine the contours of
your life,
the one you fade into
when you’re not here.
Is there someone there
you share journals with?
Laugh with over secrets?
I drink hysterically.
Laugh uproariously,
so hears my inner ear.
Self-creating narration calls me
tragic, sweet, and true.
It wants to know your story,
be witness to the real you.
Please, let me read your recording.
Please want to read mine.
Yet, as it always goes,
we each return to night alone.
Safely solitary home, witness others
act on the tv screen;
and make magic love
in our separate dreams.

Kairos Oracle

The question is of
the moment.
Narrative incantation.
Serial stories strung
to traditional tune
resonate with current energies,
fabricate a layered frame.
Past accretive prologue; there exists 
no static future.
We are spinning wheels and looms.
Textures grow, more complex through
each next, never complete.
Yet, mystics’ secret:
Within the sacred crystal
of the instant
question and answer merge,
synthesize eternity.

Neon Elephant

The bubble bursts
throws us to waking
Neon elephant, released,
trumpets:  abandon hope,
all ye, all ye
Cast upon cold, raging seas
Melting ice,
jagged, threatening:
Drown or be pierced through
Damn that trumpeting
loud and out of tune
Neon elephant slurps floating
ice cap tasting of
polar bear and cool jazz
Muffled notes of alarm
deny freedom’s refugees,
long abandoned to
holding out hopeful arms,
crying for peace
Shiny soap bubbles
Slippery laughter
Treasure and sad, sad lives
slipping under
Neon tons
Pierced by hungry ice shards,
dispersed angry red screams
call mindless sharks to frenzy
Top of the food chain to ya.
Sleep — the world spins out
from under
Awake, crashing through chaos
Neon elephant trumpets,
plays the blues

Veil Shift Reveal

stretch, open, release, proceed
feet spread forward, eyes seized flutter
temporal shift casts and drifts, torrents
take shape as awe
Lie awake to think beyond context.
Inklings, pixie dust, long infiltrate
alter-consciousness. Bright, twinkle like a
retinal code, like imprints of mystics’ art.
Stories with twists to expose different paths.
Songs that entwine backbrains, insist
we all dance one foot, one mind, one goal
or another.
Face off, blinded, emit sonic rays as walls
so steep, so hard, so badly soiled.
In quiet dark before twilight before time
vagrants paint with bloodied fingers, examine
interstice and flow.
Slowly, as viscous waste, then quicker pick up
of pace, then light takes hold, caresses gentle
as a kiss of friend intent.
Will you let it in?  Will you let your vision bend,
extend, begin?

When It Changes

Feet prostrate, grounded by gravity.
It’s the law, you know.
The laws you know can kill you
quick as the ones you don’t.
Life’s a battle.
Every day in every way you pick
careful steps among unstable mine fields.
Each and all the enemy to each.
Today’s chosen code 
subliminally mastered
into reality tv, video wargames,
the latest hit tune.
Got to keep up, so we’ll know
your shooting’s friendly fire.
Imprison’d, chain’d, drugg’d
Bent over for inspection at
every Reception ’til
vision blurs on command.
Whose life are you saving?
Whose spending?
Whose gods are you blindly buying
and applying?
You can break the chain
at the weakest link.


All the places of possibility
open to my scrying eyes.
I am the universe of time and space
awaiting birth.
Your eyes draw me,
they fill in the lines
with infinite perspective.
I have breath and depth
heartbeat and color.
You draw me outside the lines.
I am your forever love,
your fatally flawed hero.
In the ethers where we touch,
magical manifestation shines.
Singularity collapses.
A new universe
comes to life.

Romantic Comedy

Without trust all we have is lust —
the band orchestrates our game of romance.
Mustered soldiers arranged
for molding like clay.
Courtly conduct contours our stance.
Our repertoire,
notes for emoting, who says what
to whom;
how long to tarry;
which sort to marry,
which but for sport,
what role to assume.
Silhouettes, shadow cotillion,
ribbons fixed to a hidden core.
Ships a’sailing, tattles taleing
who could ask for more?
Take a chance?
Act out a fantasy.
Sing silliness; pray to the sky.
Any comfort is allowed, from compost to cloud,
excepting expecting to die.
Serenade a score of magnificent splendor.
I’ll wear it like mink to cover arrears.
Show me in love you’re the big spender.
Drink in my laughter; suck the blood
from my tears.