1997

1997

My Poetry

My Poetry is magical and mystical

beautiful and strange

lyrical, poetical

nonsensical, deranged

intricate and obvious

my pen marks on the page

tears of moon milk agony

edges crisped by searing rage

My poetry is my paintbrush, my scissor and my glue

This diamond is a heartthrob that I’m throwing out to you.

To the Rave

Street light Glow

A foreign blow

From slow to quick

Heart burning wick

Tongue acid drop

Or sheer Ex prop

Lights trail to green

Minds churn in dream

Magic bus to place unseen

Freak show awaits

Wearing disco traits

or metallic and blue

or neon hue

From make-up bold

Puffs of previously rolled

Strange jokes are told

As time unfolds

And out we pour

To factory door

In Jumping Line

We stow our dimes

In secret places

With sheepish faces

In, snaking in

Ecstatic Grin

As pounding beat

That ageless treat

So crisp, so neat

Does one all greet.

Two lovers share

I say words of wisdom, you say ‘palm tree, glue.’

I say two times three, you say ‘fine, and you?’

Here’s the things two lovers share, a space cleved ten by nine

An apple orchard stained by secrets, and if they’re lucky a little wine.

In time the apples rotten, the earth claims their bones

But not if they’ve had the foresight to build megacity tombs

Either way, the truth exists yet, that everlasting flame

Two wicks brought close together can burn away all shame.

For Travis Phillips

I sit here now

Having been washed by God’s water

having said om after bathing naked

In an orange pale pink purple blue and you sunset

Unspoken thoughts are sitting Buddhas in your eyes

Yet the thoughts are released

Musical waves fill a heart, a space, a mind, a now.

                 Trillium

           White limestone

       white pink and purple

             petals in grass

Where are you?

The tear reneges

Green forest lens

Our hearts once close bound together

Cool shade came in, around the box of green smoke din

Summer showers, a promise, no flowers

It seems the us promise wasn’t built on truth

or I haven’t enough heart to face it if it’s there.

I feel a coward that I am not with you

But I have been happier on my own

I truly have, love, I’ve been happier on my own.

Untitled

What shall I do?

Where does my whispering spirit wish to ride?

Can the driver take those teeming

snorting stamping five horses there?

First Prize Poem

When was the last time you whispered your own name

and told yourself a secret?

Something you hadn’t been quite sure about

but the whisper makes it true.

And how long has it been since you mimicked a birdsong

Pursed your lips and created the blue sky?

If your memory still holds the surface of that summer lake

Shut your lids, take off your clothes, and baby take a dive.

Rip your jeans, sweat with running

And tell your boss just where to go.

At least you will have reclaimed your will power

And reentering life

Can be more fun than the last time

Just visit the forest and take your first breath

And bawl like the child you are.