Friday, September 30, 2011

a grasshopper slept still in the grass today

a grasshopper slept still  in the grass today
unnoticed most by heard sheep munching.

if you were looking for green uneven chrome yellow
the camouflage would at last astound unseen for

even tipped toes though blades crisscross might
have through quiet snoring caught a downy ear.

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

the persistence of crickets just shy of crescendo

the persistence of crickets just shy of crescendo
pierces the leathery cornucopia leaning to hear
a wet shoe unashamed in post rosy dawn that
some will twitter uncanny in lush under thickets-

it's gray steel clearly that sneaky catbirds sing without guilt
and russet cleared pines lean crisp for a fox to suddenly blush:

in that one minute I was only a listener bent to consider
and nothing else mattered at all.

Monday, September 19, 2011

a whole world just to the left is wet

a whole drowning world lost off library left wet
just covets moisture from snapped dry words-

so cloudy bricks walk solitary lanes barely bricky
where blood is a natürlich barrier burst scarlet but

the window fogs whitely to entrance a silly cyclopic
under the moss paths laying a greeny landscape bald-

and when the fogged window into crispy azure clears,

suddenly you're speechless.

Monday, September 12, 2011

when the shadow ghost is splay

dancing in the dark is its own sweet frolic
even when partly lit by market lights.

apples and onions are close by degree
but do not draw the opposites we see

on a white canvas that dances mundane
where nothing at all by daylight shows
unless you count a steely gear of sweat
that counts for a blue dream fit to a day-

at end of the dancing begins at dusk
and, almost scarlet, lasts the all night


the alien fingers beckon leafy
but are seem to leave at dawn.

Friday, September 9, 2011

more to follow

While a funny little rain lyrically blows
with lovely drips on hydrangea rows

and scattered endlessly across avenues
is our quickly duck with an umbrella blue.

Monday, September 5, 2011

letter to the inscrutable

Oh, I missed you honey
while I was pretending
to be a rabbit.

It was a puppet really
but I had to get the voice just right
and that took longer than expected.

And the challenge of using my hand
in unusual ways caused a delay
in getting back to the balcony.

It's hard to speak in coney ways
with a middle and a pointer
and thumb and pinky paws.

I hope you'll understand.

kins of nap for wipe of grin

Kins of nap for wipe of grin
is ever over moistly down
but it's just enough for now.

Pale beauty breath sparks low
in a two-part push of bending now
and, out where an ether of blues
glows orange pulled to please,
there's a minor key of salivate.

So many records of scratchly
spin with background noise
of births of static sans respite.

A white echo holds a name in spin
for grins of snap that wipe the grin-

Dance, dance, dance,

when all you need is funny.

Saturday, September 3, 2011

There Was a Place

Mostly grey chords in a sweet place
where begin a sneak seal biting-
and open flap surprise bred scars.

There was a place where

we bounced pesky the black ants
and clever spiders drawn through
asymmetric slates extra designed:

this place looked great in the 70's.

Now the parents walk on submerged

brickworks, circulating

in a cool zombie trance:

and a seal bit my hand
while the kids are synchronized,


Friday, September 2, 2011

ain't no corn here no mo'

dere ain't no corn here no mo',
s'all up on dat hill
sittin' in barrels and rottin'
'cause a pig cain't et it all-

ground be dry and blistered.

was a time people was happy
and da corn plump and yellow.

ain't no more.

ain't no more.