Saturday, September 29, 2012


That distinct rancid peanut-butter smell
Fills the air, permeates my hands and clothes
When I saw them
All of all her fallen siblings
Snuffed out so young
When they were so weak and vulnerable
And my heart called out to them
“Hang in there guys. I’m gna do my best.”  (and I did) and they died.
And I pulled her out of her place
The nanny of those little tigers
placed her prime, next to the last of my foster children
I ask; what could I have done?
I will place you like a gem in my world
And learn what it means to blush purple
what it means to be forgotten on the side of the freeway
white flower of the night
let no one touch you without consequence
give way to the things that must pass
seeking no protection
we offer you asylum
in this realm of a solitary guarantee
that I have learned from you so well. 

Thursday, September 27, 2012

fallen muse

hungry for the taste
dreamcatcher spining
in the wake of the wind
that fills the whole house

and pushed outward
in the spirit of the conventional
typical in its reproach
paning-out like a plot i saw before

there was nothing here
in this beaufiul pit
where all that excess
fills but never slakes the hunger

evaporating into an thick cloud of oil
dissolving in the ambiguity
where time will always regin
over the islands we become