eyes that can hear and
hands that could see-
float you out to the
incessant sea.
shuttered windows and
hollow lies hide Holistic
within Heathen.
mis-read, mislead and
hunting the heretical hero
wishing you the best
pat you on the back and
trip you on your way
out into existence.
face falls too fast to forge forgiveness.

working it out
somewhere in my sleep.
solemnly singing as the
bird caged by her own brain.
factory-made puppet purrs
in company of 8mm of
you exist
and yet--don't.
dear distractions that dance
amongst my flame-
first to the fire finds fellowship
in the wake of the early morn.
fire-escape rendezvous watching sun set behind
mechanical caterpillars.
cover the broad way with traveled miles
to see a familiar-face-not-forgotten.
shooting star surfaces to grant me
one last wish, only
I never could decide-
daren't inquire.
runaway holidays hold
hopes and hesitations...
30,000ft. is a long way to fall.

silver sunburn
drink me in with thine eyes
hypnotize me in the memorization of
sleepy solace.
threads of intimate information
sent sailing along-
the sentiments speak softly and
carry big sticks.
bated banter bears down and
elicits ignition of
lost-but-not-forgotten flame that
feasts on my imbecilic imagination.
(imbecilic in its inspired improbabilities.)


(Love to Kill)

Linked to you all by
love and light,
spread thin,
       (while most anticipate spread leg), but
MaBelle is only a voice.
Ten fingers,
(one for each ring-)
each promise to breathe and to sing,
                   to laugh and to lose,
holding out for my humble pie,
watchful eye,
        melodic muse,
           mis-interpreted mother.
(Expectant only in
eagerness to engorge the erudite apostle's
explanation of self.)
Heart song zings- strings
anchor ankle to ankle
the convert and the coveted.
Influence is enough of a (gift) for our
malevolent Moll, to
send the sands surging into the wind,
                to scatter, and
all the while
shading from the sacrificial sun.
Got love to kill.
(Thru-traffic keeps me still.)
Sing me to sleep, it's a
beautiful lie on a tragically vibrant day.
Apple slices sweeten the tongue that
whispers whistles in a dark alley.