Smoke Signals

This is how I am

given to speak my worth:

     as if my tongue

     were fired,

but set upon some

distant peak of earth

where wind or rain

might wreak its ruin

on ev’ry plume of heat

that rises past my lips;

            each word

a smoky raft adrift

on intervening air,

and I am frantic

at my hearth up there,

to think that you may

ne’er so much as

glance my way—

‘Tis thus my weavings

burn, both one by one,

and day by day…

Body Parts
Cannibals, they say,
pepper their language
liberally with
     culinary cant:
     …use a bit of
elbow grease; fire
in the belly; have
a little backbone,
avoid the cold
shoulder, trust a gut
feeling; take heart,
toe the line, never
turn a blind eye or
a deaf ear, though
it cost an arm
or a leg; a finger
on the pulse
is just the thing…
So knuckle down,
     toothsome;
learn that lingo,
their jargon, [...]

Built Like This
 
Balance not always
being the ideal state,
maybe what tips my pate
is a built-in trait
that favors the hand
over the blander
            proxy—
not that petty business
of acting foxy,
but just having the moxie
to want some skin
where sense matters most.
 
I concede the argument’s
            thin, its logic
rash as the ghost
of a whimsy for that
headlong dash into bliss—
but flimsy or hasty
doesn’t [...]

A mazing
 
Of course the Minotaur
was merely red herring,
a piece of dangled bait
     no derring-doer
like Theseus could ever
resist; a simple snack
for the sword-flick
of his heroically
     muscled wrist.
It was the Labyrinth’s
dangerous trappings
and elegant twists
that were shaped
to grind the grist
of his fettered ending.
 
I only mention this,
because in bending
toward the lure
of her wilding eyes,
such a [...]

To Sunlight
 
Having himself
weathered too much
of poisoned atmosphere,
unseasonable freeze,
the droughts, the storms,
     the disease—
Is he mad, to be once
again limned in leaves,
a lunatic tricked out
in fingertip green, a mind
uncluttered by reason?
 
Or is he well aware
the wrack upon his bark
is not the mark his own
blunt hands must bear,
and so long as there be
     some still [...]

woot woot! Gearing up for the holiday party!

Wrinkle
Having loved her
long from afar, he
took to the coolness
of her light as any
wistful dreamer might
in lifting the song
of his heart to a star,
drinking what
ardor he will
from the twinkle
it lends the night.
And yet he’s never
bent to this wrinkle
where such longing
could be set aright,
this miracle of
     Beautiful
drawing quite near—
so one may pardon
his trembling aspect,
holding the dawning
warmth of [...]

Medium Rare
 
Walking the line ‘tween
talking too much and
saying so little?—  Well,
it’s crazy anyway,
            thinking
there’s a medium in
the middle of passion
that’ll ever do us favor.
Better to let fly—
admit that I crave her
in every way a mouth
will fashion;  that I
can no longer sleep
with her scent on my
pillow ‘less [...]

The Province of Man
 
Sleep is no state
for the chaser
of Dreams
to reside in.
It’s just another
darkness,
another artifice
to hide in;
a place where
the lazy let
seeming seem like
dreaming does
when the heart is
supremely awake—
 
No, Sleep is
merely a realm
for the fake;
a cakewalk
to sop up the snores
of its makers.
 
Dreams— dreams
are for movers [...]

Dark Doth Spill
 
Touch is a wolf
lying in wait
behind shadows,
if what is known
of words and truth
has any worth,
ev’ry sound—
from the first,
having been a ruse
to draw one through
the night’s thin veil
into the jaws
of such a hunger
as Life itself
might hunt its fill—
so all across you
dark doth spill
and fingers click
like anxious teeth
behind the howl now
smoking off my tongue:

Closer, [...]