Welp, Groomed

a kitty cat’s grooming is always suspicious
this truth i have analyzed over the years
the agony of aggregate clumps cilicious
alludes to an aeluroid aspect most queer

consider the context of when they commence
and a pattern conspicuous soon is revealed
as subsequent to an embarrassing moment
they feign nonchalance as a means to conceal

which is quite ironic, for as we all know
cats are nothing if not the vanguards of aloofness
yet, somehow they are so acutely self-conscious
regarding their state of inferable smoothness

of course, this technique is applied other places
like when you so heedlessly trample right past them
the shock and appall of an affront so tasteless
will spur such a groom nearing self-mutilation

and don’t you dare think to presume consolation
for all of your pleas stand to fall on deaf fur
their tail tells the tale of availed indignation
no chin scratch on earth could elicit a purr

on some rare occasions, debris might affix
to their feline in such a way barring removal
in these times their grooming airs slow and deliberate
as they give their all to appear as though casual

at times i have pondered, if not for their shame
would not their fine coats fall into disrepair
it’s fortunate that we stand only to gain
when cats most emphatically feign not to care

Wand of Levant

slumber
of saffron
and fuschia
release me

beyond
the bleak desert wall
ceaselessly arid

desiccant seascapes
secluded by sand-chime

soft planes
prohibit
a treason
of privy

siphoning sweat
by the swelter
of swoon

only a midsong
of autumnal tertian

daring descrier
could fly by the borage

brandishing
brushed silhouettes
kissed with sopor

lulling the languishing
planet in spirals

petaline prosody

cistern imbrued

weft in wisteria
wand of Levant

let the Vellela wind
wend you my way

withhold
and i will
most willingly wither

awaiting
on solemn
shore’s wallow
awash

[image credit: Claude Monet]

Hollow

this pithy endeavor

shadows of dust
masquerading through time

i looked away
laughing

returning
to barrenness

the warmth
of her touch

once
insisted eternity

how quickly
it vanished

seen
through open eyes

this sand
shifts beneath us

swallowing memories

until we are hollow

devoid
of our sentiments

i still walk beside her

footsteps
in spectral snow

when all
turned to nothing

and she was no longer

and i

left behind

[image credit: Odilon Redon]

Ode to Zechariah

long before light
cleft the heavens in twain
a movement
of manhood emerged

unlike the unsavory
dissidents prior
his was a station deserved

he fostered conviction
amongst the rapt populace
stoically instilling mindful revolt

fully apprised of philosophies spoken
unlike static sophists consisting of molt

fervent emotions born of empathy
ever consuming his radiant heart
salient locution so poignantly posed
lingered long after he bid to depart

tales of his august aplomb echoed through the vales
prose poised to avail the downtrodden denizens

parlance empowering dispelled compatriots
apposite to proletariat wards

forged in the fires of familial defect
stuttering sopor
societal ire

nonetheless, pwning the epic drum solo
from “too hot for teacher” when he was but twelve

not having given an “F” he sought “T”
and tempered his mind with the breadth thus required
of the scant few i regard as elite
he is one by whom i’m duly inspired

Deep within this tattered husk lies the hope
to someday avow this Marxist of a man
of every last tender kiss wrought by his words
intended for naught but to better this land

Missing

i am
overtaken

by desolate space

once warmed

by the presence
of a comrade
now absent

surrendered
to emptiness

pray not
this
vacant eve

Perilous Sky

my truth existed
somewhere
in her opaline eyes

a timeless visage

dangling moonbeams
from the edge of oblivion

muted by the dismal
desert sky

silently
she drove an erubescent arrow
through the sorrowed vales
of a wailing echo

which impaled my imperfect heart

i followed her flicker

’til the trail
led me to an apparition

which dissolved
into a parasol
sprawling with mesolite

then she vanished
into the night

[image credit: Kay Nielsen]

Luminary In Her Dearth

adrift
amid the vapid bedlam

palliation sought
eluding

stinging mistral
stretching onward

unseen
through the looking glass

left
to bare futility

lorn
where languid life doth linger

mistress lost

the first
the last

as she alone
compelled the stars

to loom anew
the constellations

lucid whispers
shaped her lips

like lucent kisses
illustrating

dormant creed
of freedom’s virtue

solitary
heart-sworn wisdom

salvaged from a wonted way

of this frail earth
where only fools
and martyrs
of demented mind

stand to find
a disposition
sound of spirit

. . . listen –

for her’s is a legacy
of love

luminary
in her dearth

and presence
redefined

 

 

[image credit: Vittorio Zecchin]

Petaluna Linger

awash
in coils of amber
umber

and slumber
as autumn awakens

a solemn breeze
seizes
lofty trees
in lucent columns

a gauntlet
of ambient umbra

born the republic
of czechoslovakia

briefly
a voice could be heard:
“call me ishmael”

forces of intrigue
colluded in union

to bring forth
a most inconsequential
kismet

through mistral moons
into mellow mons

from stumbled startings
to fallen ends

asterina anomala

sweetness
of a serene dawn

plush fur of eternal purr
fills my pillow
ever brimming

buffering
this astral seraphic
kitten cabal

[image credit: Ivan Bilibin]

memories like these

cruisin’
in a sky blue pinto

nineteen-eighty-six
or so

through the foothills
of tujunga

headed to the old rainbow

pockets emptied
at the castle

somewhere out
in sherman oaks

squandered
trying to conquer strider

level four
was all she wrote

swinging
on the rings
at santa monica
beside the pier

followed by a stop
at woolworths
for some penny candy fare

frantically we’d beg our mom
for change when came the ice cream truck

but when we finally raced outside
most often we were out of luck

garbage pail kids
lik-a-maid
bazooka joe
and pixy-stix

pelon pelo rico
big league chew
and candy cigarettes

gotcha bracelets
vision street wear
swatch watches
and jelly shoes

members only jackets
were the only thing
not neon-hued

weekends when our friends slept over
mischief would soon fill the air

regretting
forgetting
to have chosen truth
instead of dare

helpless
at the mercy
of my older sister’s
bumptious best friend

ceaselessly
accosting me
to follow her
into the old shed

i was far too busy
rocking chopin
on my tape recorder

fostering the nuances
of burgeoning mental disorders

not to mention
perfecting my hand-to-eye coordination

come the day
when playing nintendo
would become my occupation

memories like these
drift through my head
amid the desert twilight

where this heart bleeds cali love
and will until the day that i die

(pictured is myself on the left with my friend David O’Neil at Santa Monica)

Eve of No Tomorrow

lay your thoughts
upon my pillow

willows whisper
winds serene

tales unfold
composed of kisses

lost in silent reverie

this night beckons
ever urgent

argent skies
immersed in light

as the stars
succumb to ruin

tranquil drops
well in your eyes

[image credit: Kay Nielsen]