Flesh of Word

No light or dark.

In the field of nothingness…only dragons un-slayed.

Plunging limbs of thought…tell me,

‘stoned walls’ corral without release…temptress choreographs with open deceit.

Amidst slender gestures that wrap my decadence around her fingers

…release, release, release.


Only a bosom for my crib.

Delicate as a bed of silence…movement, no sound.

Only flesh of word allow the urge to leave.

In the light or dark.

There are sensual curves in the open crevices.

Captured, they and I, continue on with our battle…erotic…forbidden attacks.

Light early morn.

Dark late dawn.

With walls crumbling and bearings not straight.

Never is conflict finished.

Only flesh of word allow the urge to leave.


A Door Within…A Door

As vast as it seemed, it had only been a dream.

Murky and vague, I awoke and had become…

everything my mother had hoped I would be.

The joy in her eyes had been a prosthetic.

The sins she had always shared…

were no longer kinetic.abandone 1

Slowly fading from sight…

Her wish.

Our dream.

Freedom from our bondage, once again, turned pathetic.

Before this delusion slithered from my specter.

I caressed sleep from my eyes.

And, awareness back to a falling figure, fetal on the floor.

With less came more.

Disappointment lay beside me…

as it had, a thousand times before.

My awakening had been just a dream within a dream.

A door within a door.




Coexisting in My Dreams

Running rampart.

Other parts of wishing to be free.

Just another part of me.

So easy to judge control when the lack of it…

is often sold.

Basic greetings at the door.

Conjuring stories never spoken.

Never told.


I quicken my pace.

While witnessing this other ‘me’.

However, even that has caused undo injury.

Thus, with a providing climate, I relocate my recluse…everyday.

But under the debris and dormant, she is in-between everything.

That is when the holiest of our survival…

must coexists in my dreams.

Not Always Raining


A damp leaf caresses my calf.

And, gently…

I become aware of where I am at.


Standing on the repeating ridge.

Quieting, the winds…

‘do not jump.’


With no recourse…

A fall begins.

Yet, there is not a landing to be found.


There is a vague inhabited attempt to recall the impact.

The inhabitants relay no message from the flight.

The quiet?

Drowned out for the air has been so loud.


So loud that…

In the downpour…

Silence is drowned by the solid ground.

Precipitously, the fog lifts…

And, I am back where I belong.


As if, the thickened air.

The jostled calf.

The grounded connection…

Were there for protection.

Mistaken by Night

A message so discrete.

It came and went.

As if,

a game of pretend.

What of the intention?

To seep into a random dream.

Grabbing hold of fragility.

Pulling it by the feet.

‘I miss you.’

Only seems slight.

Upon a midnight scene.

Caught off my guard.

It has been sometime, since witnessing.

What you stand for.

But then again.

It has been sometime since you darkened my door.

I tucked your likeness away in a pillow so soft.


I am only aware of your dredging up my nighttime thoughts…

The day after…

When life is a bit off.