smeared paint on the bathroom mirror red and green hand prints stained, porcelain's melting embrace rattled limbs. the hallway's axis flipped bedroom stripped of spirit hangers guarded the carpet cracked boxes deserted nightstand bare picture frames except one faced down ours. - stumble fumble tumble fresh slippery floor let the inside rain fall - by the time sun shrinks from the blinds…

"he's coming he's coming! wake Jake wake!" before Jake could wrestle the rheum from his eyes he can hear stomping, doors shutting- he's here. - a shabby tan pointy hat he tips it with his right. cabbages and carrots sit atop an olive cloak staffs peek outside a wimpy carriage perfect smoke circles autumn brown pip in his left palm,

hear ye hear ye! go embrace our champion, ser Christian dazzle his soles with roses with your affection! oh ser Christian, you are so strong held the young and needy by the skin of their throats, Deus Vult! oh champion, you are so wise disturbed endless prayers set torches to their churches, Deus Vult! oh champion, you are so brave crossed with unarmed peasants constructed a river of their blood, Deus Vult! praise thee praise thee, champion oh ser Christian! protect these lands! Deus Vult!

"you wouldn't grow without me" mocked the sun. leaky petals scurried across untamed fields; Marisol wept. - no matter Marisol's nimble roots the sun endlessly on her trail, up till the sun splits west and Marisol hears the moon- her voice, one more time. - Marisol awaits the east for her beauty while the night-gales slumber; her song supports, feeds safeguards choir of shining lights glimmer on her every note. clouds part as she journeys after the villain one day she'll trap him.

tender fantasy; atop a spirited colt nurturing our prized ten-acre of controlled wild wilderness. - gritty dreaming; hubba bubba poppin' over freshly brushed mounds, salty breeze and thirty ounces of ash blasted- over Coors stadium on a tuesday summer night. - vast idea; reaching- reaching- open palmed to an open night sky on desert's back unbound

deep below the surface past the dirt the roots below the unseen life rests a weary, enchanted mole. - the child snickers from underneath her covers: "a mole? with magic?" - "what's so unbelievable about that?" meeting her dark, hidden gaze - she erupts from her burrow- the covers act her cloak- "well, how come no one's seen it?" her hands curl into whiskers.

"would you burn this all down, to save her?" his open palm gestured behind him highlighting a mostly vacant parking lot convenience store with a couple of loiterers water-damaged apartment complex with towels hanging from railings kids playing make-believe a couple- a couple maybe returning from a lively first date snickering and whispering, a future alive in their clasped hands and a homeless man. - I would.

it's a shadow feint whispers it's a shadow come and go as you please it's a shadow a vision, mortal, growling through unsealed cracks it's a shadow a movie on loop without a power cord it's a shadow it's just a shadow it's just my shadow.

stolen jacket fair a lively winter breath soothes with conveyance hopes

i only shot photos in black & white color escapes my canvas; stellar collapsed bridges leading to sinking cites hills brushed by a gray breeze & dying trees. until- a night at the Exchange monochrome strobe smoke & rays then you; silky cardinal dress, polished amber hair, eyes sleepy royal, brighter than the moon. now in my darkroom's ruby glow,

he watched the sunset; waves crashed against the unaware pier clouds parted around the waning crescent drowned sand reached for his pockets like a mugger. he watched the sunrise; the waves carried him out- seagulls called to the morning fishermen salt and litter crawled around his ears waves crashed against the unaware pier

open balcony

they try to divide us. humiliate us- they aim at our hearts with fear, with force. - they need us to fire back to justify their rifles but our hands stay open.

#writing #poem

#writing #poem

#writer #poem

you laid awake listening through the creaked window. serenated by bellows of our regular alley cat. sirens grow more and more distant. wearily focused on a blank screen waiting.

first lover- taught at the tips of her claws bloodied- vanished into the hush of the night- forgotten, bruised, Raw. - than you, a foreman, building our home- slowly homely hands warmed my soul- yet the scars bled too deep. inevitably, leaving us, Raw. - now, chief surgeon's table- my chest pried wide- gaped wide enough to let her soul in. she stitches through my veins; prowls on all fours lovingly, passionately, deeply, Raw.