gargoyles

gone are those guides
through darker climes
we reach for crinkly
bags instead
potato chips, fast
food burgers
for cheap beer
and bottles of salsa
with notes written
hastily, "set me free
let me out from this
freaking reality show"

if only we'd eaten
the partially-rotted fruit
the meat, underdone
but tender
the clouds, grey
and looming
they were the only
sustenance in sight

the only monsters to be honest
to tell us
we have taken this all
a bit too far

ye old shell game

the pleasure
of pleasure
expectation
met
the two work together
and then you forget

ships pass
in darkness
working at skew
you know this discomfort
instead of knowing
you

between plastic and water

been told
about the connection
between plastic
and water
between the bully
and the heart
between knowing
and doing
all things
that can't dissolve
resolve, involve themselves
with each other
unlike the skin
the fin
that cuts the sea
the friends
that tend
the inside
of me

manila and print

manila and print
paper, thick and plentiful
grainy and beautiful
open your heartmind
write, materialize
a new way of being
spirit...breathing...born
the jail of inner commentary
the words that open
the door

2 and one-half hand-lengths

we all need
something
I need
a rain
after the winter
to let me know
it's not all over
I need
a stack of compact discs
with your voice
and your scent
emblazoned
in holographic
verity
and what do you need?
perhaps a sip of tea
or the sound of devotees
chanting Shiva's names
to keep you
tied to this Earth plane
or perhaps you need
something so simple
and improbable
as my undivided attention
my wobbling ceased
a trickle of honey
joy
falling the 2 and one-half
hand-lengths
from nostrils
to heart

brick through window

brick through window
crick in shoulder blade
when the weather turns cold
all those years ago
I started a riot
and pay for it
with arthritis
the cost
a dull ache
come autumn
a new age
of questions
the gain
a pleasant ache
in my heart
a new age
of questions

when the center is not central

when the center
is not central
off shift
clip blip -kilter jolt
thought crime
bolt
quirk
lurk and jerk
born to turn karma drama
on its ear
oceanic fear
fills with light
from drop
of gift
to lift
humanity from its worst
but your own sacred self
first

my one beer a month #2 -- Mars bar

Mars bar
loose cannon
friendly faces
looking into other friendly faces
faces other than
my own

basketball on the TV
bad bass heavy pop
on the stereo
feeling at home
away from any sign
of any kind
of home

happen a glance
at the ball game
on break
his 30 seconds more of fame
Ringo Starr
plugging Skechers
the bar lights up
the IPA lilluminates
neural pathways
for one loner
for one moment
on one lonely night

my one beer a month #1 -- pre-gustatory perception

looking at the draft list
I know what I want
not knowing what a lager tastes like
not knowing what a mead even is
except that they drank it
in the Lord of the Rings
I order
knowing full well
that my choice is perfect
I can feel it
in my gut
savor it
in my throat
before it is even
poured