three stories

Youth Dew.

The youthful day bathed fresh in dew
the calm of morn’, life renewed
golden disc risen to blue
its burning streams spoke of You.

The dew trickled up my legs
returning to clouds as the day’s heat sweat.
‘Shall we to the water hole?’ ‘Yea! Let’s!’
And the day burned to speak of You.

Arriving I saw naked beauty.
Bashful, nay – Heaven’s purity.
Placid flesh, soft breasts divinity –
she threaded the water to speak of You.

Cream flesh through gray silk,
body soft as silt,
though Devil tried, no flower twould wilt
as she wrote poetry to You.

Out of the water she shouldered the weight
of the breeze drying her dripping grace.
Her delicate form, erotic and chaste
required no effort to prove You.

She enquired to why I stood in dress.
I explained, “I’m shy,” and the rest.
She reached, unbuttoned my thoughtless vest,
Told me our bare selves liken to You.

‘Are not the trees raw?
Does not the night thaw?
Is nature not law?
I abide,” said she. ‘What say you?’

* * *

She chuckled for my naivete,
cried, ‘We ought live life joyously!’
In her gentle hand she took me,
smiled, ‘Come! I will show you!’

We entered a foggy meadow.
Sun had sunk and damp moon followed.
Fireflies flickered to an fro.
Bare as palms, we lain, and I saw You.

light steals sight

I sat beneath trees in high altitude NM
and peered through the needles to watch the stars glow
in a speechless fury. Silent like God,
the cosmos spin without worry - I laid back on the sod.
My company, in his machismo, demanded a flame -
I sighed with eyes closed. 'I can't see,' he claimed.
For me, the trees cast shadows neath moonlight;
for he, only burning bulb or blaze would suffice.
He piled the brush and lit the nest in the center,
stacked logs on top that cracked and splintered.
I opened my eyes and saw bright faces, then beyond, shadow -
the stars disappeared behind the fire's glow.
Around I saw tree bark, outside I saw nothing -
my hair cringed by the heat of my company's musings;
the light of the flame, bright and demanding,
stole my sight from the stars and confused understanding -
my panoramic view of the forest beyond
was gone.















Delinquency with a Slab of Ham on a Fishing Pole
(abstract as poetry)

Dope Pony led the mob to sand
but left the map behind.
Ant lied atop a golf tee.
When – his biggest fan – handed him a top hat,
said, “Rum?” “I prefer a meal,” Ant replied.
“Not an option,” said When.
They saw the Fox, Her Fist, and Fee.
Fee wore mink and Fox wore feaux.
Her Fist smoked a fag, lit a bomb, and lent an oat to a bum.
“No worries. We’re set,” Dope Pony told the mob.
They proceeded to applaud.
Sand storm came.
“I bid adieu,” proclaimed Dope Pony.
* * *
Peck Dabbles said “Let’s eat”
and handed out plates of meat.
so in the middle of the sandstorm everyone ate.
Storm Settled – he’s naïve – “Station a thousand
for fun. Shoot questions
with waste. Catch the big ones
with a hole and never leave late
but always be last.”
A bird flew across the ceiling in an excellent display of Date and Time.
Everyone looked up and said, “oh.”
Half were excited. Half said
after while “Hold it there! Once he told us
this was a game;
now my daughter’s missing.”
“But what about all that meat,” replied Peck Dabbles.
“Oh” said the mob. “Right.”
“Yeah.
Don’t forget the meat.”

robots