~Somewhere by a brook~
I say.
A Freudian slip.
You say What? What was that?
I say ~Nothing~
but can’t keep a leash on plodding thoughts
that say
~Plant a small bush~
~One that’s out-of-place~
~One that will thrive on leavings~
***
Image: Flickr.com
At times,
I am one for shrouds-
the fogs of morning,
the smokes of burnings,
squints through filmy windows.
Oh these private mysteries,
these fond imaginings-
Manet, Monet, Degas, Renoir.
I pick and choose.
I fetch,
in polaroids I etch.
***
[Image: https://pixabay.com/users/johnnyjohnson20430-812216/ ]
~I drove a car two hundred miles today. I know we’re not supposed to hug, but a woman cried in my arms as I despaired for her world. She said you are my big brother, then pushed me away. At home, the cat follows me. There is food. What could he be needing?~
and this day has a nevermind feel
the soulful king is full of regret
~hands off~ he knows
watch those whispers
for they betray
the teabag tumbles
in morning mumbles
do not touch the lingering cat
he’s spiny
he’s moony
he knows, too
this boat floats with just a whistle
***
My story “When I wished upon a star” has been published by Gestalt Media in their short story anthology entitled “Best of 2020”.
Oh you,
by the window-
all metaphor and innuendo.
Granny fists at the ready
to cauliflower my ears,
to pummel my donkey resoluteness.
And I say Why Don’t You Make Me?
~More malleable~
***
In sleep,
the slowing heart,
the forgetful lungs
speak of an unwanting…
a stepping down,
a recoiling
and return.
When I was alive,
you quickened in bright crimsons.
When I was alive.
(Image: Wasan Tita/Shutterstock)
Secret and silent-
the cold crackle of air with soft sparkles of gamma.
Opens my garage,
changes my channels,
excites the pocket monolith.
Away I want,
I think.
Away.
[Image credit: https://pixabay.com/users/analogicus-8164369/ ]
You wear the white cotton and those bobby socks.
~I’ll bring the scissors~
Aremyfeetofftheground 