Road Love

At 80

A la cafe'

Curves happen fast

And cars at 40

Are slalom gates.

Sunny afternoons

Are best

For riding country roads.

And after

Racing-heart racing

A warm beer

On a dusty roadside

Tastes better 

Than teenage kisses.

That Itch

 I scratched an itch

With a thorny rose

Because I thought

The pain of its cuts

Was less torment

Than the ithch.

Hunting Ness

 I see myself diversity,

A changing half-rhymed tune,

But---

It's beyond the glass I want to see

The author of mental runes,

The poet, the love, the pest,

The ting that makes me me.

It shields with pride

And parries with jest;

And dodges 'hind plastic roles--

It's hard to hunt

In this attic mess,

But someday I'll capture

My elusive self-ness.

Hero

 Rather thrust at winds

And paper dragons

Than parry with 

Gossamer butterflies?

Then meet in mass

with he in the glass,

And smite the stone

To bare it's fleshy core;

A man with himself must first do battle,

Then dragons

Shall be butterflies

Evermore.

Dark Brothr

 

Somwhar softly silnt

Somewhar dim n fer

Agin th nytide stryvn

Lay loss my dark brothr.

B’yon al majik cant

Odr lojiks mity hold

B’for th Divil’s shaid

Be he, so fool, so bold.

But n th darksn nyte

Ina quiknd dreme

He whysprs “O lyt n Dark?

Th rivrs ar one streme.”

Graveyard Lilacs

 Graveyard Lilacs

In a drawer corner

Lay an image

Which I drew from its rest

My fingers pushed dust from the frame

And I looked deeply, Remembering the taste of her mouth

And the smell of her hair.

I pressed my lips to the glass

But felt only times hard edge.

A chill wind blew through me

Scattering dust and leaves

And the sweet fragrance 

Of Graveyard lilacs.