Tender pockets of flesh, imagine.
Freezing moon rising, through dog breath.
Secretly, tongues lick under asphalt entice new exits.
No help wanted, are sidewalks warmed by the feet of passers bye.
Cold laps cradle Laptops like children , who's realities hover above in potential.
Engineers seeking to be born again, experiment on the death of cellphones, so others can live.
Not yesterday but today everything is obedient to its own gravity, the spit of old gunfighters is sentient.
Legions of aged cripple children spread detested memories immersed in the smell of tainted glory.
Theirs is the gossip of volcanic sanity, below the caldron has no mother or father, no god, no mercy.
But out side the sun is bright and warm, families are loading laughing children for a trip to the beach where underfoot the sand is washed clean.
  

singing silence

To look in dark closets where cleaning lades won't go
To under the house, where the spiders, inspire insects to dance
At night I hear them singing with the crickets all so clear
In blissful understanding, I harmonize in joy filled tears

1 Note 2

Window for outlook, mirrored by the sky
Dark clouds foam as they break and go bye
Connection connected in waiting to see 
the rains anticipation and impending release
Now the phone is ringing it's not to late
wrong number, numbers going wrong
then it's off to jail, like me, they added wrong

The Second Bird

A bird flew into my hand from a bush
that was the first clue

The second was next, just ticking in space
without rhyme or reason,
the first look fell short
the second ticked it's way in
and not even the reader
can shut off the meter
as time was sliced
spirally into space

The minutes arrived and swallowed them up in an hour
then days, months and years. Centennial packages in the library of time
departed into the endless
blocking the escape into tomorrow

Go there, you're there, look it up and down
examine the seconds you messed around
don't worry about the others their with their mothers
still nursing their sight, after the flight of the bird in a bush
into the waiting hand of man

Heard Of

What is spoken is seldom heard
What is heard is seldom spoken
were our own smoke and mirrors
ears attracted to the known
making cotton candy colors
and vicarious zombies eyeing tomorrow
a mirrored mirror infinitely going into it's self
looking for it's own reflection for reassurance
within the nothingness of the world of matters

Galaxies Garden

Get sweet flower, it's now your hour
for lovers hands to hold your strands
Soon spring will bring your flowers
then, flying through your vivid colors
galaxies graze, mirrored by insect forms
till migrations wind seeds the showers
then dip down low and touch the snow
melt into earth, become a birth to flower