autumnal invocations

What say you

spirit of the warrior

father, protector, hunter

provider and purposeful dyer?

As you surrender your spear

on this final harvest eve

to your honor

and sacrifice we pay our heed

for you mortar a brick path

which our feet will all tread

as they up kick the dust

of the spent and the dead

and we listen to their thoughts

to their stories and lore

on this night with our lost

can we seize a rapport

in tribute to your labors

your trek past the divide

as the gates melt away

and the barriers subside

on this night o'er all nights

can we sit round the fire

the proceeded we embrace

thanks to your funeral pyre

so what say you, God

we invite your spirit to observe

in due time to be reborn

and return to the earth.

What say you

spirit of creation

mother, queen, waters of the wise

great light of nature and griever this night?

Crone lady whisper in our ears

in wavering tone

that in loss we may gain,

we must first fall to rise

that in the dirge for your consort

you merely seek reprise

that your cycle never ends

and can never conclude

for in your womb tonight

grows a victory pursued

on this night with our lost

comes a triumph o'er demise

a new hope for the future

in your breadth you devise

we can see those we've lost

seek their knowledge in kind

on this night o'er all nights

are the worlds intertwined

what's past is made moot

thanks to your creative fire,

so what say you, crone Goddess

we invite you to observe

in due time to be rejoined

and grant your blessings on the earth.

sleeping goddess

(Shh!)

See her sleeping

among the greens-

ears heedless to the

blaring bleats of

careening traffic-

delicate hands cradle

her head, bejeweled by

lips in a radiant pout-

she revels in the rapture

of tentative serenity.

(Shh!)

See her naked arms spread

wide like branches of a tree-

she's unfurled-

dreamy creases etched

in the marble of her face,

her blessing to the world,

caught in sub-rosa gaze

she's less distant of a goddess

than others I've known

even as I worship discreetly.

Suddenly!

She wakes-

halcyon fantasy disrupted-

nose sniffing fragrance

of undulating greens

corrupted in

surreptitious esteem

eyes pursue my presence,

her antecedent devotee,

but I escape-

occasion ensconced

in memory, may it live

to see consequence!

ghost smells

Musty-trusty scents

ensconced in ancient boards,

a store less clientele

or else they're all gone

underground-

traveling cracks

trailing through warped glass

behind which lies

dust of decades passed

expired deadlines

on old documents

and pieces of

city life that was

webs in corners-

spidery residents

watching as we brave

the broken boards

of a sidewalk long rolled-up

rays beating flesh

bleaching wood and stone

baking our shadows-

weathered leather

against warm brick walls

breathing the ghost smells

meeting nobody else

inhaling the particles

of a people lost-

perhaps they observe

'round ruined facades

or crumbling chimneys

lonesome in empty lots

as we, like everyone else,

take our leave.

the apostate

His hand extended, closed in a fist

'round vellum twirled in disarray

of felicitous autumn winds-

the hanging hide-blend flaps, descends

spangled crimson, for epochs astray-

an undoing of man and beast-

his rough damp calloused fingers strain,

deluged by stuff of gore and he

sprawls in pasture of obscure crop-

scythed by pinions of industry-

an oblique skinny grin when he

ponders both pimp and whore he’s been.

Lines both huffed and those newly dug

in crude blanched skin- he’s laughed and scratched,

knotting the pain with stained standard-

his quickened veins nodding in time

taciturn turned-on brain succeeds-

rebels in seizure, rendering wastes-

when caught by cruor, he grunts, relieved,

wiping shit with a hand-penned creed-

and fluid spilled from an ewer.

Air in motion hefts soil and wisdom

the patterns it weaves recall the lace

of a wheat flower cast in amber.

infused

When you came to me-

Held fast to my thumb

I transferred my muse,

infused the spark-

creation and thought,

my every turn and

intuitive hop

into that moment,

hazel hit hazel,

my breath got caught.

When you came to me-

all zen, unimpressed,

stoic and satisfied

I transferred my trouble-

the rage from the struggle,

eternally asking

the reasons why,

theorizer, moving

striving toward

the unreasonable,

hazel hit blue,

my voice got caught.

When you came to me-

angelic and feminine

I transferred my bliss,

euphoria seeking

light from love,

the terminus of same-

my thirsty search for

a singular wink of serenity,

of comfort and family-

hazel hit blue,

my heart got caught.

When y'all came to me-

held little bodies

cozied your heads,

contented to sleep

I was defused inside,

echo of breath,

of voice, of heart-

sounds as solids

cuddled into my chest.

This, your inheritance,

please live it fully-

it's all I have to leave.

It's all I ask.

found divinity (submission-ready)

You are my goddess.

watching your form

at a far-flung clip-

eyes trace the dance of a curve

from your waist to your hip

as if they had tongues-

pausing at every inch,

hungry yet unsung

mutate my mood to robust-

inspire soliloquies

words so fervent they combust

trace the incline of your smile

teeth bared, eyes alight,

angel arranged to beguile-

You are my goddess.

have seen you in a head-trip,

a dream or meditation

now corporeal before me

my vitality near detonation-

a prayer in solidity,

a lucid realization of hope-

assuredness transfigured turbidity

perplexity knowing no scope-

mixtures of elation and reverence,

aversion and obsession

fascination with no severance-

I'm enamored but with trepidation-

rouse me forward

and find me trekking with relish

combine dynamism and rhyme

no need to embellish

You are my goddess.

* * *

Written while considering a rather blissful companion, back in 2002 or 3.

perpetual care 'til the end of time (submission-ready)

"Perpetual Care 'Til the End of Time,"

says the faded-out printing

on the ramshackle sign.

Tombstones guarding the

grown-over paths- names chipping

slipping silently to ground,

yielding to twin wraths

of time and circumstance.

Empty beer bottles

strewn about blazes of

stickerweed and thistle

prickly points of cacti replace

the sign's exaggerated epistle.

Water pooling stale, teeming sick

with larvae and disease

affairs foreboding wafting despair

to the very canopy of the trees.

Intaglio of Jesus invaded

by blue-green moss-

life blooming on dead stone savior

hanging limply from crafted cross.

All anonymous residents now corpses

and fertilizer for the forests and wilds

feeding from spent decades of

a landscape and era free of charades.

From the heavens rain down

distant recollections of a chime:

nature echoes covenant

'tween ghosts and sounds sublime,

"Perpetual Care 'Til the End of Time."

simulacrum (submission-ready)

Smelled upon breath is

sweet bottled optimism-

swallowed, pasteurized

chemically-born mask.

Translucence over eyes grants

sight as though a veil-

a shelter velveteen-tender

demeanor muted, certitude paled-

a stimulating simulacrum

this aftertaste of life.

About my spirit a phantasm

flavored of doubt and paranoia

it cradles like a shroud of

sumptuous cashmere,

proud rococo styling like

foolish notions held dear-

ideas, ideals and influence.

Structure of soft plastic outside

but innards of limpid steel expands

and ripens-a plenary prison keep

buttressed by cruel homilies.

Spirit inside sits petrified

waiting in vain for resolution
in this self-styled sepulcher.