On Sudden Death

This feeling blessed
to naturally possess
a great grandmother,
or some other, who passed
to you, a telling and precious
tale taught/told to you, or sung, accompanied by
a locket of gold.
‘
to hold it tightly
rubbing it, and hiding it nightly.
It ought to go to the thought-out
safe secret spot.
.
Years do veer you away from…
Years do lessen the lesson of
the veneer of preciousness.
And the old gold locket gets lost.
One goneness devastates us.
We’ve forgotten to wait. And expect this.
.
This feeling blessed
To naturally possess
Sure treasure, Sure loss.

It's Delicate Business

It’s a damned near full moon
It’s clear, a bracing
evening. I’ll exhale out
to trace the treeline off
to a nothing northern florida town.
She sat at a flea market
where tons of townies in camouflage jackets
pressed past her at her table and chair.
Her pronounced pretty eyes
were the ideal quirk for gypsy fortune tell work.
Green, like beach glass.
How might they see me?
How can she be expected to espouse
All Ahead for me there?
At that table & chair there, exposed
to that flea market crowd?
Men, off to gun tables.
Women, drawn up the way
where puppies are given away
(hunting dogs no doubt)
How Soul-intimate can my gypsy and I get?
Can she pull out
All that’s in
In all of this dumbed down din?
It’s delicate business…
There’s this inarticulate air here
Against which…without a hitch..
.I want to wonder over every word..
I want to wonder for every prophetic word.
How can we do this with clothes on? Absurd.
.
I can see, by the chance
of this damned near full moon,
I’ll watch the line of my breath dance
just off the distant treeline,
Off to tomorrow’s full sun soon.

1st Draft Frippery

This man risked squandering 2 quarters,
Despite the nights rain,
He’d fight to stay the payphone,
Risked squandering 2 quarters,
Meant to be spent on a quart when the day was done.
So he’d hang up quick as Go
So she’d ring back
If she was in a curious mood.
It wasn’t too late
(But maybe that’d help)
.
He’d be ready, with his 1st draft.
Damn, ink already ran onto his icy hand,
Trailed off his folded page
Of falderal, frippery, & doggerel.
Worthy words to win some time.
He’d force his forte’ over the phone
If she called back
If any would entertain
A curious mood
This time
Of night.

Yes, The Sequences Go

Yes, the sequences go, this sets pro-
gressing. We stand in our streams,
Study up storm weather
We’re all under the weather.
Yes, The compass is no good.
Guessing; Push the river?
Willfully take steps?
Or wade on down downflow?
Resplendent.
.
Rest on it.
It will come

She's Readying Our Bed

We’ll be signalled by the sound of the sheets
And come running in a beeline
More like felines;
Harrison, Kayryan, then there’s Carl.
We’ll wind our way
Towards sheer clouds and sure play;
I’d guess less Hide than Seek.
I’d bet about No “A-Boo”,
It’s more all Go for “Peek, Peek, Peek”.
Us cats & kitties will fly in from nearby cities.
Boy, We’ll bound up there…
No, we’ll feel free and go
Unbound
Up upon there.

Annual Renewal From An Ancient Porch

Winter winds could
only find us cold
on our old
and ancient porch
perched high here in our new air
searching here through our new words
The latest launch on,
off this roof porch in
an old haunt,
this chilly sleepy village,
Off this nest
.
‘
.
thanx Cedar Key

another scan

it starts up, ^ I stare up
at lit charts unclear to clear up
for me mystery this ghostly machine
Immense science I’m mostly wrapped in
Examined for finds in
a mans heart.
not fresh poetry
scientific not beautyfic
principle not miracle
guts by glove/ not guts for love