Monthly Archives: May 2017

Wipe Away The World

Wipe away the world, this rain, I pray you do.

The velvet wings are so many, the kisses so few.

I dream of her and her firm, round, proud rear.

I may be in Nova Scotia come this time next year.

I could almost place her face, the angel she stole it from.

She gave me a hug, a kiss on the cheek; it struck me dumb.

In my dreams I man a lighthouse, and keep the crow fed.

She is slitting Satan’s throat as I lay half-awake in my bed.

I want to touch her face, lay kisses on her tears, make them bombs.

I live alone on the rocky island, and write novels read by soccer moms.

Her strong thighs I want as earmuffs, keeping out sound, letting me adore life.

I saw once an angel out of the corner of my eye, and he offered tea to his wife.

Pale As Bone

I see her in dreams, in the few moments before waking,

and in the between, dreams fading like dew and fog,

and the light of morning bringing to the waking world.

I see her, long black hair falling freely down her back,

her long dress pale as bone, pale as the starlight,

her ivory feet bare, as she stands at the edge of the sea.

I sometimes see her face, as she turns to look at me,

her eyes deep grey pools, like the churning North Pacific,

where the slain are driven by the need to cease all pain.

I see her, and this morning, before the sun was bright

and before I was in the solid glow of the waking world,

I realized I was standing on the beach, where she always calls me.

I see her, and I hear her, and in my dreams she invites me

into the churning and cold waters, the dark and empty abyss

where I can take her hand, and all will dissipate into sea foam.

I see her, and I not awake, not dreaming, in shadows, mist,

as she turns to look me, a face unquiet in it’s calm,

soothing in it’s tempestuous passion.

She offers her hand to me……………..

Young Woman, Ghost

I see you, a ghost, still hurting, still left behind,

in your long, flowing dress, and long curled hair

from another age.

All the others have gone on, but pain keeps you here.

In front of that mansion, now a restaurant, tourist attraction,

you walk in the depths of the night, softly crying, your

translucent arms wrapped tight around yourself.

All the others have gone on, but pain keeps you here.

So I close my eyes, and as I hear you weep, as moonlight

creeps over the trees and lights you in the only light you know,

I offer prayers, I offer tender words, hoping you’ll hear them.

All the other have gone on, but pain keeps you here.

I don’t know what to do, maybe I can cast a spell to cut your chains,

or find the thorn in your soul, and make right what broke you in life.

I offer prayers, I offer tender words, hoping you’ll hear them.

All the others have gone on, may you join them there.

Ellen Is In Love

Perfected Skin

Swimsuit model, with long dark hair,

a glint in her blue eyes; devil may care!

Lithe and strong, flesh made taut as wire,

like iron on the anvil, made strong for desire.

In azure waters, sparkling like blue jewels,

in places so distant from mortal rules,

she is goddess and siren, and she calls, calls,

to some dream beyond my madness and falls.

On my wall, queen of my restless fantasies,

with her in wild islands and warm tropical seas.

A carnal heaven, lust and love made one, perfected skin.

A place where what’s coming can’t find me ever again.

The Last Binding

She was barefoot and in a velvet dress,

and we left our footprints in the wet sand

as we walked down the beach.

She had kissed me once, years ago, here,

but that moment of affection was long gone,

and now she had the ways of death to teach.

The sea was dark and tempestuous, like her,

like the dreams of her I had every night, going under,

to the waters that birthed her from a spell.

The silver blade was in her hand, she cut my belly,

and ran her finger through the blood, took a taste,

and said: “As a boy, as a prince, as a slave, you did well.”

Call up sirens and spirits and things wild of another world,

and you cannot make yourself their master or lord.

They will wrap you in the silver bonds of cruelty, devotion.

And there is death in loss, and knowing nothing belongs to you.

She makes a cross on my forehead with my blood, the last binding.

She turns from me, back into the ocean, spent the last of the potion.

She pulls off the dress, free and not made by the god that made me,

and is free in nakedness and without shame, and down into the

slate and colorless waves she dives, leaving the best kind of death,

the little death of greed and emotion, of a paradise that tasted of

the iron tang of blood, and the aching loss in a poets selfish heart,

that makes cathedrals and sacred groves of a wild girl’s breath.

Our Starter Home

The Last Moment Untroubled

We were teenagers, wild and open, children of the sun.
We were lying together in a field, tall grass a veil of the
We were teenagers. The love song that was our was playing
on the little radio, the world conspiring to reveal all our
We were teenagers. We kissed and cuddled and laughed.
We pledged our hearts, in innocence and freedom, no fear
at all.
We were teenagers, and knew not, that this was the final
moment of unclouded peace and bliss and wonder for us
in this world.
We were teenagers, and over the sky jet fighters howled
like banshees, cracking open the world and making us cry
out in fear.
We were teenagers, and the evil and brokenness of  men
and of  this world had found us, and this, this holy day
was our last as children.

I Fear I Am Boring You

I see you getting antsy, checking your phone,
growing restless.
I’m sorry. I try to find words to say.
Something interesting to say.
Even a joke, if that’d keep you here.
Don’t go. Please, don’t leave me.
Talk to me. About anything. Literally anything.
Your favorite band is a band I hate, but I want
to hear all about them and their genius from you.
Talk about last semester in nursing school.
Talk about that bitch Skylar and the shit she pulled.
Talk about vacations to places I could never afford to go.
Talk about anything. I will listen. I will care.
Don’t go. Please don’t leave me.
Please, don’t leave me.

Starlings Read The Sky