If I could meet you, there would be a Big Bang
Creating a perfect, balanced place,
I – Yin.   and   You – Yang.
We’ll share a spot in each other &
I would kiss your tiny face

Maybe you’d smile, giggle
Or just sit, staring at my beard
I’m your father with silk to
Dry off your baby spittle
You’re all the beauty, it’s
A shame your parents feared

If I could meet you, I’d pick you lots of flowers
One in each color and hue of this world-
The ones you will not see,
Show you jazz and
Let you try buttermilk
(but you’d probably find my music annoying)

If I could hold you, I’d press you to my heart
So you could feel love, maybe feel safe-
I would hold you so close,
Because you’re my missing part

You are blood, my daughter, my ilk
And I, your stubborn father
-for you, the finest silk



It’s just the Jazz-Scene, the 5/4 Death of me

Gin. Gin. Rye…
Finger snaps; cool chicks with hats,
dickheads in expensive
sunglasses, fake
Gin. Gin. Rye…
Far out.

Bogo flams; hot licks in taps and
wicked inexpensive
night dances,
mojo pallbearers

This will be the 5/4 Death of me…

Be Dusty

We speak in lashing tongues fixed
Up with enough spit to clean off
Our dusty window,
Can we see?
Can we see through?
The lashes turn to brows
And they are all beat,
Every stain, each ornament
Picked and put and put in place –
We speak in a cracked whip of
Quip and quick coupling. This.
Our window.

Might always

Be dusty

EMOTION #2,015

Found myself here again, under
A rock, in dirty places
And ordering strong coffee
Day-to-day foretell could be
All the same

She sits, legs spread and
As she beckons,
She poses

Why did I find this place
Again, and again tomorrow?
Let fulfilment stand in front
Of joy and sing-song
I could use some shiny shoes,
Shininess in two’s &
Dull in four

Really need to find that blasted
Door, the
Waxing one, walk –
Through pun, embraced by
No arms of Janus

I’ll be here again,
And again tomorrow


Brash and bold but bending badly
Crushed and cold, cut and cramping calmly
The Jacquard loom jousts jagged juju and the
Yellowish yea-sayers yearn a yes-man

…so he walked in

Pointless Storm

Forming a new identity and smashing
That into an old me
Feels odd-ly
Like I’m back at home. Within a sphere,
Glass holds a blessed storm – as it rocks, shakes the cork top free.

Inside; djinn, a mouse, a blur of an old friend from long ago. Certainly familiar, he’s an ass hole and should probably cut his hair.

The genie was soft and amicable – granted me it’s very own wish – that I never get one of my own. It laughed but took a hand, said “You’re a jazz cat and you swing your own way, daddy-o!” – a flash of green smoke. Gone.

The mouse, much worse. Just bit me and took my money. What a fucking sociopath. Why again were you held in this glass?

The old friend was mute but signed out, slowly, that I need to move… or at least dance.

He was confusing. It was a lot like me.

This stupid glass holds a pointless storm.

Enlighten Acrostic

Entropy – the end – beginning
Now, tilt your head back, child
Lay open your eye, welcome inward sight
Ignite and burn, swing into the world
Glisten in ancestral knowledge,
Hell, it is here to harvest
Ten fold in four days,
Enticing in seven ways
Never forget, always forgive – carry on


Sweet Milk

May our vows and this separation
Be blessed – Oh, Blessed – and
Let it be sweet milk,
This distance, like wine
And Dandelion
Let it offer abundant fruit &
Even brilliant shade
Like our Love once,
May this separation be full
Of laughter, our every day
Is one in paradise
Let this splitting be a sign of compassion –
A mark of happiness here and hereafter
May our distance bear a fair face
And a good name, a moment that
Welcomes the moon to a clear blue sky
I’m out of words that describe
How spirit mingles in
This separation


a converse statement to The Marriage