You wouldn't know it if it was
clinging as your skin

You keep it buried under piles
of situational sin

Your tongue clamps down
refusing to let the words come free

Your dubious looks somehow fits
that is all telling now to me

Listen to the words you let stumble
from the corners of your mouth

They codify your existence like the hot
dry winds coming from the south

You're afraid to give what little faith
you hide away in fears

Then you are caught looking back
on the mystery of the years

framed in driftwood
we stand, gathered informally
standing on sand, at the waters edge
with blue sky and sun behind

father, mother, son.
zinced but still pinked
by the day, on the beach
smiling, carefree

intertwined by love
and history,
the gene pool, strong.
hair blonde and curly
the feet, long toed
and the clefting dimple
on chin, the slight turn of nose

we are held for posterity
together,
for this moment
of memory.
smiling, laughing, loving.

as the tide recedes,
as the sun sets,
as the sand is blown hither.

we will remain......family....

Throwing daisies into Crystal Lake
Feeding Pekin Ducks , smoking blueberry blaze
Relishing quiet time with my friends , the
water striders and Trumpeter Swans , elder
passersby waving from the roadway ....
Chewing tangy grass , collecting runaway
thoughts on a Renoir masterpiece kind of day...

Diddly doo, diddly dee, diddly sleepy
From kava tea, diddly will be with
Family.
Diddly do
Diddly did
The tea is warm
Sweet reminisce!

disgusting
and
delicious
flinch at the carnival food
I can't really recommend it
maybe if you have
some broccoli with it.

Night appears in an avatar
of a sweet chaperon,
coming with a lovely dark gown
to dress the shy, blushing evening
cajoling her for a slow make over,
she implies, it's better letting
the will of darkness prevail.

Now she is a perfect charmer
night, lets her long dark tresses
loose, that flows in waves
down through her back and
caresses her rotund proud buttocks,
adding to her silent grandeur,
till the next spectacular day breaks.

Night is an ace  temptress
with full moon at her side
as an irresistible  magical charm
to sway even nature, catch
the sea in her net,
of attraction and makes it  dance,
bewitching night makes
the stars in her coiffure gleam.

Night is an agile courtesan,
having royal patronage,
eyeing you wistfully,
hellbent upon her this day's conquest,
her amatory skills one can tell
will be *****,she is classy nevertheless.
In her boudoir, women are salacious,
hungry men too dance to her tunes,
what you gain after a spirited
amorous duel, is the gift of dark eyed night.

Two fishing poles, a feather,
a leather jacket with holes
on both elbows, forty-four
dollars and change in
an envelope, some dope,
a pair of worn out cowboy boots,
a clay flute shaped like a bird
that can't whistle a tune worth a lick,
an unused bus ticket, a picture
of two kids laughing pretending
to fly; an eyelash in my eye.

There was a river, near  my village home
a perennial silver memory of my childhood
in which my mind  still in hallucinations swims,
a life line once ,no more exists,  because of our sins
alas no one recognized her might,when she was
alive and full, roared  tigress like through ravines.

From above the hills, a girdle of gleaming silver
comely like a village belle on her way to the market,
in that jungle village they never noticed her charm
or the amble through rocky paths and an occasional prance

From the hill roaring aloud she jumped down,
ran through the sand bed in mirth, on  both sides
coconut groves and rice fields performed welcome dance,
but times changed, they daily removed sand in truck loads
as we watched in pain  the river turned to a mere rivulet
one day the river became a myth, a tearful story to tell.

There was a river once for our childhood whims to swim
for beauty in the form of lush green to come, stay near the stream
a river of plenty that we thought was ours  for all the times to come
it's now a distant memory, seems like an unreal  sad dream.

My words are but a shooting star
To be seen in all its glory
But as shooting stars fade in an instant
So do my words to be read once
Then fade into obscurity

Verily we are suspended
to one another invisibly threaded
gold spun, finely woven
we breathe the air of summer
silken petaled, softly subtle
through these woods treading sun dappled
we come to rest, in a rosy heaven
lose the world of whirling much too fast
to gain the moment, lose the future and the past.

white tulips
in moonlight, though silver
this night

they are near,
near, yet I cannot
touch them

nor catch their coy scent
but I smell nothing, hear
nothing

and, and this vision
of a forgiving bulb,
is fading

behind it,
in its shivering shadow
I see him

what is left of his face
what grace there must be
in this place

where the man I killed
the moment he killed me
and I, are now together

separated only by
silent soil, and a merciful
white blossom