Phu Cat, Vietnam-1970

Explosions varumpf
across red clay valley,
tongue-fucking my ears.
Micro jet loops,
carves new hole
in earth’s shoulders.
Sound delayed by distance,
sight not far enough.
Monsoon rains death,
but cannot cleanse.
Addictions birthed here,
reunions in hell gather here.
Heroin high,
never been lower.
Mama san knows,
gums betel nut;
red mouth, no teeth.
Smirking,
we will all go,
one way or another.
I fly away, never leave.

Phu Cat, Vietnam-1970 first appeared in Coil magazine.

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Exile In Room 101

Life has had its way with me.
I am exiled,
to a chair in this hotel room,
counting lines in wallpaper.
Lines so straight, sharp
you could shave with them.
Imprisoned with me;
vertical cellmates.

My life revolves around me,
gliding along walls.
Resignation
brings retreat,
refuge,
in the written word.
I rise above,
free from form,
look down quiet,
velvet halls
leading to a lobby
full of strangers,
checking out,
resuming lives
I have not lived.

Exile in Room 101 first appeared in Coil Magazine.

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Tears Of Africa

No neon glare
on the plains of Africa,
no streetlights
in the Serengeti,
only night,
black as espresso.
Parched earth revived
by generations of tears;
Lazarus land.
Hopelessness
of hunger closes in like hyenas.
Dream of them.

Dawn renews despair,
a second language here.
Red dust swirls
its death dance
with seeds of faith,
mere wishes upon the wind.
Children dressed only
in distended bellies,
adorned with flies.
I do not look them in the eye.

Tears Of Africa first appeared in Snow Monkey.

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You

you linger
like morning mist
opaque, tinged violet
in mountains called Morocco

you swarm of bees
noise of a thousand wings
buzz in my head
murmurs or our conversations

you train derailment
crashing
disrupting
morning schedules
colliding
with deadlines
sweet chaos

you life raft
in a needing, wanting sea

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Whispers From God

On my knees,
our familiar rendezvous,
waiting for you
as I always do,
to speak in whispers
only my heart may hear.

Silence.

I know you are here,
your presence is wind
caressing my upturned face.
I await forgiveness,
offering neither reason
nor explanation.
I await boundless joy,
lifting me beyond
a sea of transgression.

I am overwhelmed
by the quiet,
cold abandonment
of a fall from grace.

Whispers From God first appeared in Iguanaland.

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Earth Mother

Tinged silver-blue

by moonbeams,
luminous earth mother
hums with ethereal music.
Her velvet footsteps
pass the spiked fence
of coastal cedars,
solitary sentinels
old as time,
guard the night.

Luna moths,
iridescent ghosts
in magic moonlight
float among fireflies,
a starscape on earth,
fallen on a sleepy meadow.

Mother goddess,
fertile nymph-spirit rests,
bedded down on pillow moss
deliciously fragrant
while angel-fingered fronds
caress her face.
Cicada serenade,
a moondust lullaby
of echoed dreams
envelopes her.
She sighs, sleeping
among ferns, at peace.

E

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