He would appear and disappear
without a sound
Would stare at the stars
all night long
Sleep on the cold desert floor
Eat peyote buds
and sing war songs
He was rich
in all the nothing he had
Identified as a thunderbird
The animal spirits
were sacred in his world
Asked about gold
and he would scorn
Holding up water
the most precious
in all forms
I called him Navaho
        NO !
Call me Dineh !
So I did

i still straddle the fence on this
immigration reform manifesto

i see both sides of the story

it's good to have the grandfather clause
for the immigrants in my bloodstream

- the scrappy scots-irish-ingles-welsh
in me - but too late for the cherokee

behind the old fences of history.

r ~ 11/9/14

Quivering chills
Shadows stand over
Taking her breathes
Stay under the cover

Feeling the pressure,
the crucified call.
Lucifer sighs forward
"Bring me her soul!"

Surrounded by sirens,
dark bellowed knights,
Up on their horses
With fire piercing sights

Screaming for mercy,
Gripping the sheets,
Swords pierce her heart
Lord Lucifer shrieks!!

We see eachother
Through our screens
And we see nothing at all.
All of us,
Our pixels staged
Like empty vendor stalls.

Substituting eye contact with
Fingertips on
Static.
Everything emotional
Is frozen,
Mathematic.

I am longing inside out
For
Savage,
Revealing
Touch

Warmed not by
Electricity,
But by a  
Carnal
Flush.

Hey God, scoot over a bit. I'm feeling kinda tired. Would you fluff that cloud for me?  Ah, thanks dude, much better. My head's been feeling heavy. The closer I get to the end of the road, well...makes me wonder why bother with the rest of the show. The endings are all the same.

To be honest, it hasn't been quite all it was hyped.  We start running low on that joy thing and all of a sudden it just seems so ...pointless.  I find myself wondering if my dog is going to outlive me. ****'s that about?  I've had a dozen or so dogs and this is the first I've ever worried about whether one would be sad if I checked out tomorrow. Another sad lonely old dog ain't going to be the end if the world.

Even poetry's not doing much for me. Face it, mine's fallen flat, and with the exception of a handful of golden pens on HP, it's kind of gone to hell. Oh, I don't blame eliot. That's what happens when us old ***** play around with technology that the youngins know more about. Algorithm doesn't know **** about poetry, and all I know about hash is how to smoke it. Think I'll just stay up here and rest a spell. This fluffy cloud is feeling mighty fine.

r ~ 5/23/14

Carbonation
In the perforations
Of my pupils
Pops
Like one million little
Tiny bubbles
Swirling to the top
And I am lit

Just like a lantern on the lawn
I sway with wind 'til
Night is gone
Tumble with you
Toward the dawn

So precise
the lines
yet not
this painting
done for you
Wisps of joy
and sorrow
in their passing
I see you watching
as they trail
across a sky of blue.

r ~ 7/23/14

Rolled tight and sealed
with my lips this pome
I wrote for you
and placed inside a bottle
Tide is going out
as the sun is setting
with a pome inside a bottle
and you still on my mind
Blue winds and waves
will bring it to you
This pome inside a bottle
Just another love song
like the ones we used to listen to
as the moon rose o'er the ocean
watching the tide come in.

r ~ 7/25/14

I've been told
that I'm built like a fencepost
Kind of wiry
A few knobs here and there
A knot or two for character
I make a pretty good fence
Good at keeping things inside
Not letting things out
But now my shadow seems leaner
Not quite as tall in the morning sun
The soil around my feet eroding
Drying out isn't all it's cracked up to be
Staying straight ain't easy
The herd is getting restless
And the barbed wire on my back
is tearing me up inside.

r ~ 7/25/14

I have been devout and without
an avid follower of me
and nowhere found
the bed without a flower
after breaking ground
I grow
to glisten though
my distance closing
gentle breath show
my distance from the sun
there have been no answers
from doubt
i bleed and am blind still
the show we share
shadows forgotten
paths run walking or grown
the power is all
to quiet moments trust
to meet in far off oceans
where watching a sense
quite like fantasy
meets poetry and motion.