What the high desert holds can be anything

Abandoned mines of the recesses of your mind

Your eccentric self — speaking to red rocks in the canyons

Unexploded ordinances

A supersonic jet — clear blue sky

The Joshua tree and its bearded limbs

Twisted and puncturing the sound wave that follows

The pinion pine — scraggly

Old guardians of the deep dark night

Where the satellites start to glide across a swath like

Secret sentinels then suddenly stop and

Disappear into the background of stars

The Milky Way shedding the blood of centuries of

War from beneath itself: a hallowing

Where the mystery of magic is so profound you can

Feel its weight all around you

Like an unknown vortex — a journey to another place in space

Possibly dimension — an alternate universe

The path you didn’t chose that continues on its

Own trajectory thru time

When the echo of the sound of your feet

Beneath you are all you hear

Only to find when you stop the still stark silence of the

Wind whispering through the canyon to

The valley floor below — the singular rusted

Mountains undulating across the horizon

Where you swear you see the ghosts of

Dinosaurs roaming what once were shallow seas

As time falls away and fades back into the

Sun which is now lowering in the sky

The witching time in the desert

Where the spirits begin to wander the land and

The long open highways

Laid out in front of you like myriad

Endless possibilities

 

 

 

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On the shores of Loch Ness

A monster’s shadow lurks in the mists

Of time — where the ancient castle walls

Crumble high above

The wind swept cliffs weeping for wars

Gone by — the echo of British soldiers

Marching past the centuries old roadside inn

Its whitewashed walls as pale

As the barmaid’s skin

A bonnie lass trapped in an old

World landscape — the call of modern city sirens

Far beyond her provincial reach

As her ancestor’s wild roar comes crashing

Down the hillsides into the valley floor

The gnashing of teeth

Bloodstained kilts in crumpled patterns

Glencoe – in the Western Highlands

Heaves its land and rolls over

The betrayal of your own clan

Still reverberating 500 years later within

My beating heart

where a wrong turn goes

leads to places

no body knows

where your true

desires – like fire

crackling heat

orange-red meet

on city streets

full of new

faces – white teeth

wind whispering a song

ocean’s sparkling dawn

quiet moonlit night

three stars align

a foreign sky

this is where

you say goodbye

to ghosts that

haunt familiar pathways

digging deep

and take a road less

traveled by….

The presence of her was missing

In the funerary home full of white lilies

The pall of death was everywhere

The sterility of fold out chairs

Ashes to ashes

Dust to dust

Her world-weary spirit gone

Floating in the eternal dawn

Shaking knees he kneeled

Kissed her perfectly painted face

The shock of her suicide shimmering

Through my new white hair

Then he left us – bereft

Like the air of her last breath

my hands clasp around

the porcelain bowl I had so carefully groped for

in the cabinet above the sink

the glaze is smooth – cool & soothing in my palms

I set the bowl on the table without making

a sound

and break an egg, coarse

into the bowl just as the

dawn broke

I know it is dawn because the birds

sing different then

the weight of dew hangs heavy in the air

saturating my skin – sweet scent of roses

I shake the bowl and feel the egg swoosh

up the inside contour

shift right then left

I dip my fingers in – entangle the fresh slipperiness

elusive filaments

this must be what the sun feels like – cold, slimy

I believe them when they say the sun is round

but no – not when they tell me it is warm

yes, I feel it radiate on my arms, my legs

digging deep into my skin burning

memories of desire

but no – I believe the sun is cold

cold in its treatment of me – mocking

I hum a song
as I wander our house – simple wood floors
yellow rose in the glow
of morning light
through the open window
two cups of coffee
hot & steaming
through the effervescent air
touching one another
on the old Formica kitchen table

outside
the silver & gold
LED lanterns hang
from the trellis – during deep quiet night
one is bright while the other remains bare
tomorrow you will find the other holding the light

each day a bird hovers and hums
a song that floats
on the breeze – a melody of love
and belonging
which is here @ the kitchen
table clasped between our fingers
around two cups of coffee — touching

We all have dirty under garments
A white corset with tiny pink bows gone soft beige from wear
The tight men’s kind thrown in the corner of the room
During a midst of madness with a woman
The coming attraction already known

They say mothers always say
Make sure you always wear clean underwear
Apparently this is because if you suddenly die
In something like a crushing swirl
Of cars collided on the highway – metal screeching against metal
At least your body is pristine

Not so
When the body ends its functionality it lets itself go
Until there is nothing left of its self
Where the soul reaches out into the wide open sky essence
Twirling into infinite time and space

Where I touch you
Screaming through the sound of metal
That took off my head and hair
Screeching…..

You stopped to pick up my hair piece
The one I used to push you
Away from my face
As I looked you slanted in the eye
Like I were a Kennedy