Wind and current wrinkle the surface,
motionless as the cracked skin of a
parched desert.
We bank and catch the full fire
of the setting sun and the Pacific transforms
into the hide of a golden elephant.
Another turn loses the light and the water is
pachyderm gray capped with tufts of white.
The ground and its toy houses are almost in
reach as we descend like a silver bird returning
to the green canopy of home.
A cold skeleton spans the Llano.
Steel ribs crisscross through saffron vapor.
Tinged with the remains of a lost day's fire,
The crescent is a tender cradle
Should Venus slip and fall.
The people on the first floor complain about the noise overhead. Those are my feet on the floorboards of the second floor. I gripe about the music on the third throbbing through my plastered ceiling. The vertical lamentations continue, I am certain, all the way … Continue reading It is Over My Head
I have no faith in Love
Love is capricious, Love comes and goes as it pleases
4 in the morning, in the lobby, pressing 2B
Begging to come in from the cold
Inside Love grows bored, and restless we step out
Love enjoys attention. Love is thirsty
At the bar I am embarrassed for both of us
Love imposes wisdom on young couples
And reads an old letter from Paul to strangers, Love is mocking
The blind apostle, ingenuous from faith,
Never opened the door at 4 in the morning.
Love stumbles. Love slurs excuses,
mumbles something I don’t understand
Love falls
On beds, on floors, on couches
At 4 in the morning
Love sleeps.
I find no peace in Love.
And the next day Love is gone.
A dry rasp of cellophane scrapes
White noises’ impenetrable wall
Where pages of the daily news snap,
pennants on the battlements
Rattling ice in a plastic cups
Silent crystal lace on the windows
Hushed voices murmur,
the secret language of ghosts
A salient protest from a babe in arms
Pierces the cyclonic fury of twin engines
heaving sub zero blue
We tied our rafts together Touched a friendly current Our courses divide and life runs wild yet As forever branches We are never parted
Insect song played by an ensemble of rattling wings, legs and mandibles fills the morning air, heavy with late Summer and reeking of Witch flower. A pair of lungs labor past a gully choked with Baal thorn and Scratch weed wearing a thin coat of red dust courtesy of the dirt road and its unerring spine of stiff, dry grass. Eyes burn with unrest and want. The thunder of insatiable appetites rumble inside guts. Boots thud into town. Everything is promised while the string is pulled from a sack of malignancy.
Thinking of you and your mini Hubble while spying.
A heron hunts
What low tide reveals around sandbars emerging
Like slick whale humps as the Gulf recedes
From the Mississippi shoreline,
Cat Island stretches out, purring on the horizon.
Tomorrow, please do not come I don’t need you Wherever you go in your idle hours To plan our joys and sorrows Linger there Today is all I want
Look at your belly
Whether hole or fleshy hill
You have a mother
Rock & Metal Reviews That Hit Hard
Musings and books from a grunty overthinker
A blog full of humorous and poignant observations.
the literary asylum
Daydreaming and then, maybe, writing a poem about it. And that's my life.
…where words and drawings breathe
Life Through A Lens
Contemporary Dark Fiction and Poetry
I dream so I write ..
Dedicated to everything recreation!
Pen to paper
The goal is to help make people’s lives easier
Poetry, haiku, tanka, and micropoetry
Floating thoughts, A place where my beautifully weird thoughts floating around in my mind are posted.
John Truelove 