Winter night moonrise

Awaiting your silver beauty to pass my warrior stance
Bellatrix pulsates for you, dearest Artemis,
where Apollo’s rays cannot hinder
fading in the same horizon you squinted.
No vengeance festers, my virgin doe,
my adoration holds steady as your bow
my body pulses from your prior pierce
even over this myriad of years.
Side, Merope, Eos, none measure,
for you snared my untamed anger
in the moonless Cretan night
away from Oenopion’s plight,
hunting stag, foraging affection
between you and this lone constellation.

Empty as these jars

Wood chips fleck your beard and hair–
muddy eyes penetrate the sandy Nazareth air–
Mine turn quickly away toward the town spring,
back to the grain yours go, I slow focusing
on you, your carving, so intricate of craftsmen,
I think of us–content–together–with children,
You glance up, again, about to greet,
my little sisters prod me on, whipping with wheat.
Away I walk, but not without another glance,
you pull back to hew sturdily–I leave, jar in hands.
Your seclusion burdens my head like the water and clay
I carry along the long route home, just to look your way–
so mysterious, you wound me occasionally,
said I’d understand some day. Is it me
that makes you contend inside?
For Mary adores me, she wants you, a bride,
“She would be good for you, Yeshu,”1 I know she’s said,
so save me from this unrequited love and wed,
for your short gaze makes my daily walk not so far,
but I am still lonely as this empty kilned jar.
1 Hebrew, “God will save”

Like paparazzi

Hiding in music you breathe your anger with-
fear-you try to steer clear.
It’s haunting like paparazzi
till you crash.

Designed Living

From granddaddy’s prescription regiment
to blood bag reorder labels and webs aplenty,
I cannot escape the webs I weave
captivated by a book cover critique–
aligning fresh stock at my summer job–
library A/C’s keep pages lettuce crisp.

Step outside

Step outside your room, step outside yourself:
listen to the noise pounding drums
of “loved” ones.
Step outside your house, step outside yourself:
you have a roof but no field
to venture out with veggies.
Step outside your yard, step outside yourself:
for the greatest was homeless
yearning to share his with us.

Daybreak

I crave photographing you,
daybreak–the mists motionlessly woos
and the grass bows to sun baptized in dew:
Rising of a new day–every glance at you.

The one real thing

“You are the one real thing.”
So easy to say?
alone?eating MickeyD fries, listening and drinking pop,
not seeing your reflection in your girl’s flecked eyes.
“You are in control.”
So easy to say
reading fan mail from teenage girls
not saturating hospital whites over loved ones.

Ready to be called?

I am a barnyard goose,
up and down a car crammed roads, running
as the flock flies overhead on a mission.
Honking, honking, and honking,
where do I go?
a bug in headlights, banging my head on synthetic plastic for
“It’s the sun!”
Impatient as a client on the curb awaiting their sedan’s solution.
Do I need to be ready for my call to be called?

My experiences, my words

My experiences, my words
will not be stolen–
crafted by your past.
you post-modern punk!
valuing vagueness and ambiguity.
Can you ignore what I mean?
“It’s about me,” surfacing as you read.

My post-mortem evaluation awaits (if famous),
analysts decipher my colon’s meaning as
publishers tinkering with the nerves of this iddle brain,
editing for posterity so they can purchase more green.
Don’t be afraid to ask while I’m here.

Our magnolias blooming

Vesicular vignettes, my magnolia–
our magnolias,
blooming in their respective seasons;
seeds planted long ago
reach their pollen infecting spring
staining us all?till triggers spring
and frogs fall