to see you

is to understand

the urgent sway
of gravity

the spectrum
of infinite hues

precious molecules
in bonding

you fill my primal senses
with the knowledge

thought divine



was the circumstance

that drove paper nails
through weightless

to think
we once knew

as desperately
we dangled
from tresses
of concession

composed of gold

which stretched
for many miles

the trenches
of our youth

i look now
upon days gone


but nowhere
are you to be found


in the vaulted yonder

where obsidian
the earthen tomb


there are more thoughts
within this faint entropic masquerade
than will ever see the humility of expression
were that they could be fit for some metaphor
that might convey a sense of infinite eternity
alas, the landscape which bears the collective essence
of my earthly experience cycles in an orbit
as scant as the tip of this pen
I am but a mere fleck of fading ink
revolving around a feckless dash of happenstance
one that once saw fit to encompass
every fiber of my fleeting flesh
fortifying a form so feeble
with belief that life was far more
than just the sum of its paltry components
the feeling which fate is remissful to frivol
that which defines a purposeful flight
through this finite illusion
alluding to skies that touch freedom
where fear goes to rest
to say I had fallen would be folly
for such would imply that I was not
as flat to the ground when first I found footing
flooded with rains wrung from wrenched rumination
relinquishing all of my being
into hinterland arms of her wintry repose


i clamor to comply

to her arduous hours
of ardent dripping


precious petaline
lips of veiled tempest

siren’s plumage

into madness


with aching
and crushing ingress

into swallowing shores
of unabashed

on jagged crests
of turbulent valence

drag me down

to where misery
serves its reckless conquest

abreastly heaving
a synchronous song

like heathens
in a heaven

where breathless cries
of wincing

breach liquescent
the chasm
of krios

beyond our
spent desires

through the mirror
of time

Ode to Scutty’s Buns Revisited

mister scutty.


mine eyes take to sea
draped in black damask

ask, upon what merit

to what do i owe
thy fine mask of sinew

in shadowed remorse
i lay vexed


a freedom formed
born of toilsome task
such winsome,
this ass

grasping in folly
i falter, forlorn
this finest of fannies
far more than fixed eye
could e’er hold candle to

sand doth sift
and so shifts time

o buns of golden mote
i dote on this fire
to hold what is naught
but a phantom fandango
so taut with transgressions
in visions foretold

foreboding alabaster sheath
no, asunder
plundering depths
taste tears of sallowed vitae

were strength as a flower
this truth, seed and all
should fall as the hour
when tower doth beckon

thy buns!
thy buns!

o scutty!
skyward flesh effused
obfuscated realms of sordid sanctity

below is a shifting
uplift yea!

muted trepidation
threat or compliance

lo, golden buns of stardust waver

o scutty!
buns that scintillate liquescent
‘neath the moonlight’s tremble

in cries of haute

wielding scepter