Home on New Year’s Day

A whole lifetime’s past since I saw you last, leaving the house this morn’ in blue champion sweats, a hat, to cover your ears from the new year’s biting dawn.
From a goose down berth billowing to the seams – silky tufted quills prick then make me sneeze, eyes watering, nausea turns my head into a swirling cobalt carousel of pink and white papier-mâché ponies.
Incidental moments telescope, one into another, then all into the next, each keeping company with a scattered band of park bench brothers.

Thinking, Thoughtlessly 

Eyes sweep left
they bob, reel right
mindlessly observing
spinning briny bales
unfurling foamy white

Rolling blue thunder
yields the veiled, crisp horizon
powdered with crystal mist
oxygen roars on a corkscrew jet
crashing…
a salty-surf hisses, whispering: dissipate!

Drowning the din, the months
of full and monkey-mind moons
twisted, furled, entangled
ruminations…
vanish!
like a purging breath
‘neath the thunderous
ocean’s boom

Spice of Asparagus

The rain pelted, popping
…like corn
exploding
‘gainst steamy crystal window panes
while th’exquisite, pungent
bellowing
spice of asparagus
clung, lingering …
arousing a longing, arousing a hunger
for the hard, nameless, brawny swain’s
glimmering, limering eyes
where had he come from?
what could it mean?
how could I seize its clinging
insatiable, its lusty allure
and bottle it…
forever?

Silky Spools 

Above all else,

we are lions, lone hunters
of good strong hands and deep soppy kisses
from lips blood-gorged
with biting desire for sexy brains
painting masterpieces o’er this mundane plane
through which we flail, stalking…
obsidian nights, like untethered kites
through booming, electric
tropical squalls
the crushing might of milky
dimpled, brawny, crescent moons
the cleaving throb of thick
and crimson, blue-jeweled swords
dangling full, and heavy
‘tween thumping bullish thighs
so strong to splay-a-man’s spine in half
in one scissored thrust
of fervid, swollen flesh
to die sweet deaths
into silky spools of moist

embrace

G-Force

He’s the one, it’s clear as day
the night is coal with clarity. Noo…
he’s the one! the bacharach sings
in perfect pitch, my wetted finger
tracing ’round to ring its beveled
crystal rim

And’s always felt I’ve known that tune
without a doubt
yes, that’s the one!
whose melody I’ll draw
into my lungs, like oxygen

Of screaming…
teenagers
riding rickety, wooden terror
coasting electric, rolling rails
metallic squealing, slings us outward…
plummeting corkscrew
twisted trails

Sinking inky, ecstatic plunge
black oblivious, abounding abyss
bubbling, buoyant, bouncing, brighter
looming surface hues of blue
shades of tranquil, shades of golden

Azure skies unshackle…
my, centripetally shanghaied
shallow breath