The dragons fluke like a gauntlet choke

Memorizing the tornado through its ghastly

Rasping voice, gasping for the air that flies it.

Its wings caught as low winds fall behind.

Tighter the noose of clouds singing, while

Choice plays center stage and is guilt thereof.

Of saying yes to the no's and no to the yes'.

I asked her about Gideon and she smiled.

That wry little smile that lovers hold aside.

Hoping for a God damn winner of ecclesiastical

enthusiasm for everything in particular in her

churchless sky of hopes and missionaries gone home.

She bore that Gideon like found gold no one knew.

Carried it when it strangled her, held it when it

was the only thing true, and loved it deeper

Than the notion of herself or his self

And the spring blooming twig in the great birds'

Mouth tasted like wine and french kisses

and moonbeams inside a woman's secret.

Am I not the dragon?

Silent night kissed away the deaths As ashes divided themselves in battle Blowing into shapes of ghosts. Toiling, the bystanders and lovers came To look for those they’d lost. No sun rose as earth buried in dust, Which was once sweet baby breath Growing on free rolling open hillside. The roar of voices resounded Like children who do not know And grasped the safe things they could hold. Those who thought they knew suffered most For their eyes refused to see Beyond the sullen ocean current Beyond the passionate blood engaged. And the shape-shifters beckoned fools Lustfully hoarding thin air for themselves; Coming back as do marauders to Feast on nothingness again. It took days of searching pockets to find it hiding there But when it broke it sent a voice to fill up hollow soul. A passer-byers thunderous song A whisper in the gale.

I see humanity divide itself, Struggling against its own strength. The qualities of May embezzle

I, listless, Have seen the depth of the labyrinth, and been the beggar pleading liberation's joy. I, peace, Have spoken among the dead, and held their truth even as dust covered tombs lie still. I, hatred, Know the meaning of the lack-lustre smile recurring in the blind mouths you seek. I,nostalgia, Wonder at the lakes of tears that tried so Many times to raise me buoyant in pain. I,fantasy, Sense your invisible approach as clear as the pictures Ive seen, eyes open- eyes shut-both. I, freedom, like sweet holiday's best- taking me without pretexts' ever pressing wish for something else.

Bomba: A run on sentence

My world explodes dry bombs spreading with the dark silence behind the words of protest and blind teachers hide and run to save face for the fearsome as the class room children run blue fingers over block keys learning the alphabet of tame pain shamed and blamed my rocket men see it all from horrid distances twice removed that my jacket buttons burst the next point of destruction this walk our feet no longer bear and the talk our mouths curse you and I falling as clouds come down mimicking phoenix thought power leaks and oozes out of every corner adrift as a septic wounds knowing no discipline and showing deadly disease among my people's sickness spreading among the dead as it has for so many centuries before today's survival wish to stand among the living who condemn the down and down sinking belief knowing there was once a way out this thunder we all hear and feel in our bones.

If

If a life of servitude toward the inner purpose of man,
Rising upon dawns' free breath flowing unto heaven;
If in bearing thought wisely as to natures own cursor
I become what my birth intended me to,
I stand to welcome the vessel of time itself in me.
Greeting the blessing and its challenge of being.

If as provided by the forces of humanity surrounding,
Salted tears dissolve as sea gestures to the tides;
If in wearing the abode of gracious patience anew
I teach myself the words I learned to bear,
I push forward the notion of love beheld thereof.
Resigning unto the gifts and pleasure it brings.

If as solemn night shows witness's infinite domain,
Striving to become a wiser setting sun defined;
If in knowing lessening brings it together undivided
I beckon its resolve to know me more perceptively,
I entrust willing shelter of spirit unto my song.
And hereupon call it my one and only life.

Mystery

Mystery I want to swing in you
Holding the tidings of unknown
there upon my tidings a floor
dancing between the huddled
there and back again though younger
touch inside the gracious newness
of me that I never and always knew true
unafraid to love again below the skin
same as I trouble becomes prison free
to speak of selflessness anon
I give up throne wonder of speech
to show the one thing that holds me
My messenger so deeply you brown hair
I know how to care, I know who you seek
forlorn the days that told wisdom ignored
and by the by whispered leave it now
life breathes this treasure as I see it
growing into my body anew
Take but the solid tears of the path
forgotten, take the long days
and flush them with breath
My grip is but a burden , never take hold of mine.