furies

your songs like my furies nest in my head,
they cradle this cracked heart when I sleep,
and drown my soul out of my bed.
words no longer mean so much me
but without them you know not how to be.

O! my savior, alas,
cleanse pure through flesh pin prick
you as a drug opiate high mass,
then in vein through blood divine, gasp!
Oh, do! please do! the past is past due!

angel with held scythe,
allowing such images to scorn your schools
a cruel high esoteric price.
building wine soaked flocks of fools.
with stolen silver forced moors to forge soft gold tools-

bring on more pretty boys and young lady crooks;
false homeland hoods, white wearing lying whore sages.
dancing, throwing putrid worms on fish hooks,
Babylon anew with clubbed feet in gilded cages

so courageous around your friends and tasks

but I smell their poisoned apples as I wander your haunt
examining their Janus masks
see how you are looking so gaunt
You sit so patient...
willful at the bare edge
where my doubts dismiss sapient.
...touch my cheek, remiss;
say this too shall pass
and on my forehead lend a pity kiss.

in a month, and ten and ten...
the sun sea and sand will sit so different.
indescribable outside the sight
of dust, ash and lent

skin, spine and heart tingle
bursts in incandescent anticipation,
eyes tear - awe and wonder, both mingle
avert to distant horror... that cracks the soul's aviation

when our days 

all become one -
what to do who to tell; 

who will hear what we say....
time will ripple lights will sway,
temperate seasons 

will change in our hands,
extreme alter in a day.

February 2011

wired

this bird on a wire
sitting pretty
but so tired
of always needing
to fly higher

looking down
on your homes
such lovely
glass domes
should I go through a window
it's risky to fly low

beat these tricks
break my neck
pick up sticks
eat some seed
on your decks where we feed
efforts to intercede

this bird on a wire
always trying
to fly higher
sitting pretty
and so tired