Topsy Turvy Sonnet

damn the broken speckled eggs of sorrow
lambs and sheep are counted for tomorrow
harm unfolds and every corners’ ornery
trapped in tattered rags of second stories
charmed until the pansies drooped neglected
snapped balloons deflated dreams deflected
skeins of winter sunlight wheezed and squandered
promises that shattered pieced and pondered
trains of thought to marriage quite contrary
Thomases of doubt reactionary
coroners and caskets flying solo
kettle drums that wanted to be oboes
corridors of numbered doors and angles
settled in complacency’s soft strangle


Farewell Huitain

Ginger and cinnamon can scar
the reserved air mercilessly
in empty rooms at half past three.
Perky utensils cramp a jar,
spatulas arranged as they are
needed. Laundered dishcloths still smell
of distant breads, a rump roast’s char.
Her kitchen wouldn’t say farewell.


You broke a bale and scattered August on
the frozen stable boards. December sagged,
her arching tail switched steadily at dawn.
We waited, talked of heifers, fogged and flagged
the conversation cleverly around
a frigid barn. December didn’t care,
she raised her head, was bearing down,
preoccupied with something in the air.
She pushed until we saw two hoofs appear;
the long gestation ruptured, braved the chill
and steaming, slipped into the atmosphere.
December stood and letting down her milk,
wasted streams of warmth around her feet.
We watched until our silence stretched like hands
through polar fronts and taciturn cool sheets.
The moon fell down, the newborn tried to stand,
but vapor veiled our faces as we laughed
together at December’s wobbly calf.


What We Know Sonnet


Possessing not the insight found in time,
that wraps a journey unaware, and claps
inaudibly in cadence, fractal rhymes.
We yawp, express this life in tattered scraps
of what we feel and map what seems so new,
but is it fresh or just repeated strolls;
the human gait still searching for a clue.
Insisting on rewriting former scrolls
of dead ideas there inked by bygone blooms
of us. Immersed and yoked with joy and pain,
the wonder of encounters since the womb,
our consciousness evovles beyond the brain.
Alive, unchaperoned and forth we go,
from youth through death recalling what we know.


Industrial Odyssey

Strung out, loosely semiprecious strings
of glinted consciousness along the bare
shrugged shoulders under empty throats of land
collar dawn. The last high beams are sparse
through fine haired forbes where asphalt cuts its teeth
and whines on gasoline where jake brakes splutter.

Here stands the clustered monolithic hive
of industry, its long horrific utter
extending forth with holding tank arrives
in snaking pipes there slithering inside
and fed to kilns that burn the toxic clutter.

The sun is broken in rectangled gold,
diagonals are X’d in stairs that grudge
the tower built where sulfured air is blown
and whispers to the roar. Blue flames are thrown,
incinerating waste, an android’s mother.

Networked, connected wire by the mile
wraps around, mechanical as a dreams,
splices through pilasters, frowns and smiles
twists and braids; the humming turns to screams.

And men are Lilliputians in this vast
Armageddon organized by them,
are manufactured chained and then condemned
Colossus now incinerates the past.


Acephalus Stretch

from above

the fuzzy 

city lights join each other


forget their source

halo life

that fireflies beneath

where distinct complexity 

can dwarf

networks shimmered

in between each bulb

voltage hummed

through neon


time is measured


bridges death

kept in pockets punctured


held up briefly

stuck on bayonets


and flipped until the day’s 

eager sands have trickled

past the fire

flickered forth

from final


slipped through digits

caught the wind



Feathered Nature


Unconsciously you leave yourself behind
between my grass in cocoa quills with bits
and remnants of digested meals and it’s
as if you’ve landed here, though disinclined.
Your cries like rusty hinges, how they grind,
like swollen doors against their frames in fits.
Directly after dark the racket quits,
the dawn will show your bodies’ print defined.
The day warms up and couples venture ’round
the river’s edge with two that swim offshore.
A shadow flicks, its falling weight is more,
submerging goose in talon’s grasp ’till drowned.
Her gander’s shrieking hisses underscore
unanswered calls that slice the night with sound.