Ode to Pearls

June 18, 2015

A dream of midnight and the moon
The cold smooth sphere
That slips and slides between fingers.
Lustrous pebble taken from dark waters
To gild radiant lives while carrying still
Its unfortunate aura of mystery;
Of the exotic, of the distance.
Pale haunted orbs within which lurk
The unanswered questions
Who am I?
Why am I here?
Questions that are never answered
But mercilessly ensnared into an intricate design,
(or maybe it is a brace)
That holds, tightly holds
With chains and lashings
All the elements in place –
White porticoed halls
Mint juleps, sundresses and gowns
Ceaseless languor of dissolution and time
– To create another ball of fantasy
White, versatile and pampered
That creates the fuels of trade and death
For these cold, soulless, white orbs.


Ode to New York

January 19, 2015

You are…

mistress of dreams,
tyrant of days,
clockwork of toil,
wound up and coiled
you leap at dawn,
a tiger, from the between the rushes
of cold concrete
that bathed in the golden sun
of morning and evening
line the great wash
that carries the flotsam
and detritus, memories
hopes and dreams,
from the slain of the day
washed up and
drained up,
leaving along the pathways
the savage scent and carcass,
like spoor, that is
feasted upon
by the tigers that lurks
deep down in all of us.

such is your myth
of jungle and fear
of crowning deceit
and unsatiated hunger
and yet i see you
in that setting sun,
when rushes darken,
when lost and alone,
when you seem so fragile
just a land,
teetering on the edge,
Almost falling into the sea of myth,
barely holding on,
by a sliver to the great
ruddy, muddy continent
to whom you belong.


Ode to a Jigsaw Puzzle

November 2, 2014

Open the box
and out they tumble,
hundred tiny pieces,
odd edged
and colored;
with sockets and tabs
waiting to hold hands
and recreate that world
that we have seen
enticingly on the cover.

Misshapen puzzle
pieced together,
at first the edge
that straight border
that binds
the picture,
to give it form,
to give it structure
and building, relying
On the pieces color
to shape this worlds center.

Scattered pieces
lie about
each with their own story
that we piece together,
wondering why we even
took it apart,
And wondering if the pieces really fit
or if some are lost,
scarred or broken,
and if they will be missed.

Once there was a tiny piece
from a corner on the left,
a piece of red,
with faded edge
and broken tab
that fit no where,
left in the box
from another puzzle
leaving a mystery,
leaving a riddle.

The jigsaw does lie
in the attic of the house,
childhoods gone,
more pieces lost.
Faded cover does tell
the story of joy,
of a little boy
assembling a world, now lost
to dust and darkness and the
slow revolution of the clock.

In your hair I see the fields of Fall,
Color of hay stacks and tossed,
Untidy mess. The flowing curves
Of your body are the rolling hills of the prairie
Verdant and alive to a gentle caress of wind and lips.
Silent, you play lazily like the wind
Stirring strands lose with your finger,
While your eyes of crystal stare out of windows,
Blue reaches of distance and endlessness,
Yet from the table next to mine.

Ode to the Bookstore

September 2, 2014

In my mind the bookstore
is a small place
a hidden place
with dark green windows
and red doors.
It nestles
between borders of the mundane
the butcher selling meat
and the grocer and his greens,
the essentials of life.
almost forgotten
it is that place
where on entering, at first
you smell the musty
yellowness of paper
which gives away to the crackling
sharp aroma of pepper and
the dripping stench of the tropics,
the languid desperation
and colonial weariness
of a life hard lived by gin.
Where you hear the hard crackling
of the naked fire
and tramp of feet of legion
as they burn down
the walls of Carthage.
It has its own impentrable jungle
of wooden shelves, vines of ladders
the undergrowth of maps and books
the fierce tiger glare of being distrubed.
It stands as a monument to time
to ideas and dreams
consumated and
I dream of that little bookstore
even while
relying and using
the hard silver
and rational lines
and ordered process
to browse and read.

Ode to the Albatross

August 5, 2014

Ceaseless traveler,
Relentless discoverer,
High above
On the current of wind,
Cruising over green swells
Frothing, fluid mountains
And dark vales.
In endless search
For the land
For the dream
For respite from the daily toil.
Forlorn star,
Solitary comet
Caught between,
Two velvet oceans
Eddies of vertigo
Spinning the firmament
Disorienting the mind
Inducing the melancholy
Searching for company
Over the lonely and
Mysterious whale road
Weathered wayfarer,
Wan wanderer,
Sculling the wind
Skating the squalls
Gathering a breath,
Resting on Thermals,
Enjoying the lull
To soak in the evening
To drink in the warmth
Lingering in the melancholy embrace
Of the slow departing sun.

Ode to the Sea

July 20, 2014

You beget vastness
Onwards you roll
Into the fiery distance
Where the sun withdraws.
Your body undulates
Hips swaying
To the bass of the wind
And the melody of the gulls.
You seduce men
With your body in fervour
With your distant soul
To board ships
And sail
Over the curve of your hips
Through your choirs sonorous song
To touch your restless soul.

Ode to the Tongue

July 14, 2014

Sensitive coil
Pulsing within the dark caverns
Of the mouth.
Ready to wrap,
Every morsel that enters,
A python
With insatiable hunger.
Lying calm
Only to be
Awakened with the shock of
A sharp, pungent,
Tingling taste of a chili,
Firing the red summer rays
And the heat of the tropics
That cause warm beads of sweat
To be summoned
From all around.
Or bestirred slowly
With the slow warm taste
Of red meat, grilled and somnambulist,
Heaving with winter roots
Filled with memories of the dank earth
Frozen now underground.
Other times, it
Glides over speech
Wrapping around words,
To convince,
To deceive,
To express,
To rage
To twist and turn
And shake forth the ability to
Smile and
Cry and,
The sensual tongue,
Coiling and expressing love,
Navigating the lips,
Tasting the mouth,
Reaching in, deep
Deep, into the caverns and
Exploring the seasons,
Curling over the words, and
Wrestling with the hunger
Of the heart and mind
Of another.