Friday, August 27, 2021






I played in the field of the minotaur's horn.
The rose trees stretched for twenty miles.
His black eye blinked
my slow heart's beat. I danced all day where
the elephant's hip burned blue in the shade,
where I glimpsed the escape the animals made
before the age had been born.
The green grey moor 
was soft as a sponge 
on my cheeks where tears
disappeared in the mist.
I wondered if we'd ever kissed
in the halls behind the labyrinth's door
where the beasts blew their breath on the shadow play.
I saw them come at the end of the day
with all to give and nothing to say. 

Their souls each put in a hazelnut
that sank in ripples of earth's wet heart
covered in time from fire and flood,
from our hands that pull the world apart,
that turn his field from grass to chalk
where roses blow for twenty miles
and the animals at last
have begun to talk.

August 2021




posted for earthweal's













Images: Minotaur Caressing A Sleeping Woman, 1933, © Pablo Picasso  Fair Use
Swans Reflecting Elephants, 1937 © Salvador Dali  Fair Use

Saturday, August 21, 2021



Fill my glass
and let it be. The night 
moves over the unsodded graves
unquiet between
the roadhouse and road,
seventeen mounds
to home seven sins,
my vanities' bones,
my castaway loves, my old
car-killed cats.
Fill my glass
and let it come
at the end of the sky
when the broad brass sun
sets aslant on black apples
wind threw to ground, on
the last summer moths fluttering down,
warming them ripe for the locust's hall
with autumn's endings
packing the rows.
Fill my glass;
half empty is full. Let it be
as I drowse on the lawn,
sweet shattered moths and
brown thrushes for company, my
sore eyes wrapped with
a bandage of stars, peace
spilling into the void
where understanding
has flown.


August 2021

 posted for












Images: Apples, Jug, Irridescent Glass, © Paul Gauguin  Public Domain Manipulated.
Night Hill  © Andrea Kowch All Rights Reserved   Fair Use
Photograph of cat and wineglass from Sunday Muse, artist unknown. Fair Use


Thursday, August 19, 2021

Blue Drown

Blue Drown
I've been too long
in the blue drown
to feel again now
too long under
the mirrorglass glowmoon
that tides me apart
to answer your voice
too many waves
with their concrete hands
on my throat
their sucking salt drench
in my eyes and mouth
to ask who's to blame.
There's no pain left
on this sand 
swirled trashed beach
where I've come to meet
the last falling star,
the hungry crabs.
July 2021 

 posted for Open Link Night at
Images: Looking For Crabs Among The Rocks, 1905 © Joaquin Sorolla  Public Domain
Two Crabs, 1889  © Vincent Van Gogh       Public Domain
I have manipulated both images.

Saturday, August 14, 2021

The Accordion Man


 The Accordion Man

He stands in my head
where the music once lived
like a tongue in a bell
when the ringer is dead,
corroding a little bit more every day.

He came down from the crossroads
with a small spotted dog.
He plays in my ear
til my dreams turn to fog.
The dog wags its tail and then runs away.

His shoes are like blimps.
His face is like claws;
his hands push the buttons
that work the bonesaws,
to slice out a song no one wants him to play.

He won't ever go.
I know that by now.
He plays in my head
and it chirps like a crow
his accordion clatter of skulls on a tray.

He chants all my names. He adds seventy to nine;
but the worst is
his eyes
are sadder than mine.
I could watch them all day.

~August 2021

posted for Fireblossom
Image © Guido Vedovato   Fair Use