Transgender Love

I regrettably buried the little thing
in a plot not of my first selection,
because my tyrant husband fool that he is
did not approve of where I had originally planned to plant us.

Thus, love at first sight agonized indescribably,
bumped, bruised and battered by careless mowers.
Deprived of lighting and proper care from foster mother,
it pained me to see how she suffered.

Three winters pass, the jerk gives in
to re inter the shriveled tree. Says he;
"If it doesn't die by summer, we'll not apply to it the final solution."
Why oh why, am i so pussy to defend what is mine to cherish?

I plant Precious where she and I had always talked,
in full daylight on the front lawn
where birds can whistle at her.
Within the hour she outgrows me by a head.
I am impressed. She tints of blue,
as blue as blue as any Colorado Spruce could get.

I look her up, I look her down,
her well set trunk, her hanging boughs.
With princess arms my hair she coyly touches
and whispers in that accent, unmistakably coniferous,:
"Were you a male, I'd look to impale you.
You'd be my prince in satin shorts,
in chain mail and shiny armor."

Without a thought, I respond;
"I am, I am, don't let that stop us.
Have you not guessed?
I am your trans gender lover!"

Radix, etcetera

I never see a sky so dull as others claim they see,
for to the misery that is Darfur's
I surrender unconditionally.
But to this, I'll add,
that death absorbs everyone,
and there is nothing worst to lose
than to a villain admit defeat.

Our massacred
in innocence, in age and youth
will soon enough be restored.

Da Vinci's Clues

Understanding is pick and shovel
a sieve purposed to separate useful from useless

Will is the power behind realization
Genius makes simple the complicated

It unifies disparate thinking,
It tests, proves, and cut to the chase

It expunges error
It reformulates

Somewhere in space,
Leonardo is thinking

Grinnll

A bird sanctuary faces my house
on the eastern access to the river
which the Army Corp of Engineers damned
with the result that it's swampy.
Turtles as big as tires sun bathe there,
and there are trees ten stories tall on average

When winds blow from the Ocean Front,
as will they have before Jamestown was founded,
in squalls and gales and storms that frighten,
the canopies, shake unperturbed, and shout in sing;
"So a few of us will fall,
so a few will break their necks."

When such is the heavy weather,
the trees raise their arms and wave celebratory:
"We are here, have always been
as long as memory has deemed to serves us."
The forest talks in tongue humans do not hear.
but is recognized by birds and lower creatures.

What trees lack is a serious appreciation of Time Before,
of when trees were not
because earth fumed, sizzled and spat
and broke atrocious gasses,
But even then, Grrnnll -speak was uttered by other natives;
mineral Grrnnll that stunk of sulfur
Grrnnll downpours which quenched and soaked.

As I write, hail is crashing,
and it's but the 28th of May.
Maybe Grrnnll arrived by comet;
sperm, seed and angel dust
"Comm witt usens to believe.
Will show dings, go figure."

Zip It, Joan!

"Lucky in Mischief,"
but not lucky in love is my name.

Mouth has been my bane and shame
I should never say what I think
except I write it in Sanskrit
and kind of inverted for the boys with the rope.

No, I am not a heretic
and your flames do not feel like icicles,
nor do they lick as might compassionate canines.

Clam Chowder

We share the same address in general,
between the bookends of time and the reachable,

The share the same address in general;
be we herons, fish in beak,
or fish on the brink of depth everlasting.
What oceans are not connected?
What molecule is not molecular?

We share the same predicament in general
between time's unseen bookends and the reachable
the hear and now, the then and maybe,
poles of contraction and expansion,
space moved like checker pieces.

It's like a blustery day
on the coast of new found land.
Like a bowl of clam chowder,
the sea within, the sea without;
In our blood, the fisherman's bait.
In our salt, the tales we tell,
lore that's stellar and navigational
lore that's utterly necessary.

One Mississippi. two Mississippi

"Zero in" would be an oxymoron
were one to miss the target altogether,
but blast the bastard down the middle,
and it's mission accomplished ---
Oh happy days!

To bring to naught what was---
that matter can neither be created nor destroyed,
atom bombs would beg to differ.

Evil DRAFT

"Evil," I've thought about that word,
have poked its rib with stick
to see if I can see how dense its skin

A word of wicked companionship is evil
like thievery, rape, ethnic cleansing
and famine

Oh yes, Evil may have its glory moment
when Evil looks unbeatable, but it's end is like...
that of a syphilitic madman, blowing out his brains

94 and Running The Gamut

A butterfly circulates
in flight erratic

perhaps in avoidance
of enemy squadrons

By autumn, she'll have slowed
and then, it's curtains

Same with me,who pretends
she's still 47

Mutual Respect versus Intolerance (draft)

I'll start tomorrow, I pretty promise
to be a better person and listen painfully to your speeches
but when I ask a question, you're even more offended
than when I gently fall asleep.
It's like tyranny versus free speech.
If one can not question, one can not think.

Give you a example.
You say common sense comes before books.
I ask what's common sense?
Common sense for you to throw a tantrum?

I say you're fond of quoting from the Bible,
that never refers to common sense,
and which according to the Book,
existed before the term "common sense" was coined.

What makes more sense to me is common courtesy
or avail me of your uncommon golden silence.

Mother Goose

As I breathe, I will to live
poem to poem, non stop.
What's wrong with that?

Is not rhyme sufficient reason;
free verse, my special season;
every season, my very soul.

You bet I want the universe!
Thus, I prefer abuse from Mother Goose
than running clueless with the pack.

Gitmo

First time --- granted, it could have been a freak occurrence.
Second time --- a strange coincidence.
Third time --- ah, ah, these doings are getting spooky.

For the third night in a row,
the "lights" have invaded my room.
What do they want?

A high pitched voice, squeaky replies:
"We don't want much, only you
because what you got, we like.".

If these are extra terrestrials, I'm kinda flattered,
but still in terror's grip. Me? They want me?
I'm just a postal clerk, bland, washed out and underpaid.

"Precisely," creepy hisses,
a guy like you we can make invisible
and a super hero overnight.

Me a hero, and no paparazzi...
Who could ask for anything more.
Whoever you are, you got my attention.

"Last but not least," Vader continues,
we'll set you up with a genetically reconstituted Cleopatra,
freakier than 70 virgins in a tub with a bottle of vodka.

The mission, if I may ask?
Simple (voice over back to Creepy)
Fly a helicopter into the White House.

"No way," ses me,
"I voted for George and the old Bush before."
"What a coincidence," ses dem, "so did we!"

Just then, I recover my senses, strapped to a gurney
marked, Department of Defense, a tentacle in my rectum,
an assortment of hoses in my nose mouth and ears

Trimming The Wick

The twilight of the Friday
Amanda was buried
the crows were particularly noisy
After the last shovel fell flat on her casket,
Amanda's three friends invited me to brunch.
I suggested Chinese.

I made no reference to the deceased.
I spoke instead of climate change,
of how blue glints from a crow's luxurious coat,
of Castaneda's Don Juan, the Apache Shaman.
They looked at me queerly.
We marched our separate ways,
to not meet again,
except for Margaret
with whom I rendezvoused the next morning.

Hubble

I would care
to wear upon my beanie orbit
visitation spokes of light
rotation of primary colors
the halo bare
wherewith to speak
in tongue illuminated
the Source to powers
that burn and fuel
and do not consume
nor spurns the speck, the dot
the points that are the stars
of men created god like

Colored Folk from The Underworld

When engine motors are turned off
how precocious the hour of Konk turns on
The emerald turf brain-set the skull
like medieval fort in treasure chest
Emerge the midnight lights to play
the chores of garden beastly and harpsichord
speared blue their tunes unfurl and snap
The shaded green, the neon vine unwraps
the golden blur turns gray and turquoise pearl
Sleep soft and deep you wondrous kingdom
where I disguised as serf am elf.

Freedom's Flight

There is a line of light
which spirals up from concrete walls
to resonating falls, sweet music to the core
of they who foam and twitch in fits.

Before elevator doors,
I stood a washed in tears,
awaiting a dumbwaiter to arrive
which when it did, arrived with thump.

From inside it,
a gloved hand launched at my eyes and nose
and tried to snuff my face and nearly did,
more than half a dozen times.

But an angel's grip unsheathed the leather,
and my straitjacket straps collapsed like wow!
And I, not for a second looking back,
jumped alleys and Brooklyn Bridges.

Thus, I flew straight for the shaft
I had seen in faithful vision,
shooting fast passed protesting shouts
to where I trip untethered.

Once more to be what nature deemed
(and be ye glad I'm not from these parts)
my scaly skin,
my razor beak of raptor

Lingering Doubts

Is what I see,
what I wanna see
or is it preconditioned?

On a given stroll,
you see many sees, but what are you missing,
for want of eyes on the back your head?

I consult with a former guru by internet,
who advises I develop a Third Eye by and by.
Whereon, pray tell? I'll jump on it immediately.

Above the nose, between the eyes!
But might there be other suitable locations;
like chin, solar plexus, or pelvis?

Guru Gaga from the Bronx replies:
"Still a smart ass, I perceive.
You haven' t changed a mite."

If only he knew the lows I've hit
since he and I dropped acid in Bhutan's hanging gardens.
Like Jacko I am morphing, brother. I need help!

There be signs
a rhino's horn juts out of my forehead.
As to my being a "smart ass,"
should I take it as a compliment?

Resistance In The Face of Odds

Be stoic.
Bear your pain like a woman.
There's a gem to hold fast,
when roofs crash down upon our skulls.

Kill as they try, they'll not extinguish
the spark divine.
Suffering is not for nil
It runs into vats that cellar
the red, red wine of existence.

Needle and Canvas

If you're gonna be punctured bloodied
to be inked for the sake of art, at least be tattooed
where you can admire the handiwork.

Oh, a gift to the world.
You are a philanthropist!

Your big behind a billboard for passing humanity?

Hilde Reincarnate

Her yellow flag she flaunts and walks
Her pony tail shakes and bobs
in waves of light, wind and surf
a tom boy by intent
not by hips nor lips nor breasts
but by every turn she takes,
and then she turns an eye on me
and shyly smiles as if by accident,
not in flirt ---
Oh not in flirt I dare not think

But what do I know?
I wouldn't know flirtation
were it to jump into my draws,
for this centennial beard of mine
has nearly reached my toes.

Still out of curiosity, I will ask;
Art thou Hilde, girl?

Fisherman's Pier

You figure the ultimate purpose of language
is to connect with an ultimate listener.
You hope the sea is here tomorrow
and that it continue to roar
its siren's call to Darwin's Theory.
You hope that God is true,
especially if you're a Jew
And if you're not,
that too is cool.

The Hood

Now you see it, now you don't.
From day one, the neighborhood began to change.
The Cherokees were evicted, slavery admitted,
mint juleps, cotton mills and whips.
One nation under Mars.
The War Between The States.

If you had your finger on the pulse
when Hitler waltzed the goose
(meaning goose stepping, the SS keeping cadence)
you would've have sensed that as the town snoozed,
change it would. Came Pearl Harbor,
so we did what did. We nuked their sake and hero their shima.

That war was right, and we Johnnies marched home victorious,
and the hood really began to change, housing galore and malls.
There at the gate of the family farm, a returning marine.
There on Times Square, a returning sailor
bends his doll into a "c," plants her kiss that makes the front page.
And me - the Marine, I was lost in action in Iwo Jima.

Sixty years have passed, follow the path to the church yard,
head down Main Street, turn left at the drugstore,
visit the park across from the Courthouse,
see the memorial I hewed for myself.
"To the warriors of the Thousand Year Wars,
and to the future Armageddon."

Yep, the neighborhood!
Now you see it, now you don't.

Age Brings Reasons (draft)

Call me "lucky," call me" jerk"
I've had no problems
not of my own doing

Admittedly, I talk too much.
I shouldn't reveal what I think
To blog my thoughts, that's another matter.

No one reads them anyhow
Call me "Scribe," therefore,
but please don't call me "Oral"

I'll sing to you, I'll hum to you,
but, baby, I can't afford
to go mouth to mouth with you

The Joy of Putting A Knife through of An Onion

Inside looking out is thrift, thrive and come alive
Outside looking in is feeble link to belly button-gazing

If it's fresh, it could be pungent
If it isn't, it might be rancid

Yonder Beach on Yonder Planet

As promises are poised, as wishes go,
I pray for us the happy ending,
what sound poetics are four -
the Mozart score in closing,
always tender, typed with sadness
the better side of being human.

What seemingly is grasped over a life span,
may in an instant be relinquished forever.

Moon Walker

Tonight, I take a revolutionary stroll on the wild side.
I travel to the moon and return with samples.
The mister who shares with me the sack,
thinks I'm catching fits.

I put his mind at ease when I flip over to the left,
and feel his cold nose nuzzle my chest,
then hear him resume his sawing logs.

Exhalation to Motherhood

To 35,000 year old statue of busty woman

At times, I am a bit confused
and do not rightly know
if I am seeing butterflies,
falling leaves or driven snow.

Put that aside,
and let me gently touch your womanhood,
for I have been your firm admirer,
as I have been of night and stars,
and am bemused, sometimes befuddled
by our healthy, daily, complex charts.

Married To A Cause

Early this morning, she went shopping at Walmart
to purchase a refill of Triple X,
the type you spray end to end.

Tonight, while everyone is in distant sleep-
as I return from a late night raid on the frig-
I discover horror of horrors, my goosebumps!

A ten foot roach zonked toxic out of it gourd,
its sorry backside shred and dangling ribbons
walks a broken circle, dizzily.
"Lord, why me?" it shrieks.

"Friend," ses I to it, you did nothing particularly un insect,
except get in the way of Mein Fuhrer
who's sworn to final solution your kind,
extremely extinct every last one."

Whirl Away Road

Black birds are pickin' the lawn, again
as once they did countless times
before me was dreamed.
Squirrels are storing their nuts for the fall.
A calico tiger stalks ducks on the lake.

God's in his heaven; the devil's in hell,
and my mind wanders in alley ways
where lamp posts light the twilight sky
and the setting sun quite never sets.

Star Wrecked

Night time is hard time,
so for that reason,
we retrofitted the spacecraft
to do the voyage of a thousand night years
propelled by levitation than by impulse.

Have you guessed the metaphor?

Monk and Key

Monks require little;
time and place to mediate.
Scribblers require much the same,
plus something extra easy to get.

Monks are poorer than graffiti artists,
richer than scribblers are the good friars
As a scribbler, this I solemnly confess:
pen and paper is for me, pothead's flame and weed.

Room with a View

For the love of Pete, Paul and Jude
draw not the blinds, my adorable one.
It makes our bedroom feel so coffin-ish,
and I ain't dead, yet, dearie

Last will and Testament

Obsessed?

A work in progress does not end
goes round and round
like a beast in hot pursuit of its tail,
forgetting how and when the chase got started.

Catch it, bite it fierce
Surrender to the temptation?
Why not, you have nothing to lose
but a reality check.

Ward Time (draft)

The term "My People," I do not apply, necessarily,
to those related to me by blood or marriage.
Nor do I apply to friends and associates.
Friends and associates, blood and marriage
are matters of convenience.

I do not apply to those who share similar beliefs,
matters of convention and compromise.
"My people" excludes those who wish not to be included -
dysfunctional folks of the dangerous kind,
people like me I would care to meet.

Humility (draft)

The sweetness of life is savored
in mild strolls
in glimpsing clues
in honest pursuit of grasping connects

Be still, wrote the Psalmist
Know I am God

U Welcome

The curled finger bids we come
invitation to be accepted
as mere threshold not the trip

Blue Planet Calling

Prism cell so full of hue and sumptuous
my planet sung and habit-forming
global feast of frenzy feed and breeding
you dancers and mimes are not a few.

Ballerina porpoises and whale sopranos
coral sperm of every tail
wigglers and canaries two
the praying, waiting praying mantis.

For tea for you, I'd bee a caterpillar
my special cozy oozy womb cocoon
whom lubricates me,
and lubricates me good

` SOS...SO
(Save Our Species...Ship Orgasmic)

The alien in me, we likes
we don't always get wot we wants
but dem we get, we eats

Waltzing Who

Poems have hidden agendas
are double agents.

Out of sight, underfoot,
a worm works a garden rich.

Overhead, fantasies fly;
nature's witches on forbidden sticks.

The simple motion of shifting weight
one foot to the next,
the mind adroitly simulates.

The foreshortening of day, the elongation of night;
a thought misplaced turns up some other place...
Divining rod, Matilda's tricky boomerang

Crow and Thrasher

An old crow, big and black,
Sage of The Woods sits high on electric wire
has come to check out the neighborhood
has by his side a tooting bird, a "whipper snapper,"
who makes damn nuisance of itself,
does kamikaze to nudge Ole Crow from his perch.

It's about turf and power, isn't it,
that the Thrashers want other critters at a distance
nest and mate and eggs to protect, survival of the slickest.

Crow shouts vexed:
"Squawk off, you punk,
who's says this spot is yours alone!
Before you were, my shadow found the ground"
But With a little help from Mrs. Thrasher,
Crow beats a retreat.

The dialogue resumes tomorrow
Prince Raven of The Morning Hour
knows when a nest is ripe to pick.

Where dueled the Monitor and Merrimac

Just like bang, the rains erupts
noisy, disruptive, and without warning,
sparing nothing in guttered fronts
to and from the ocean's paths.

A few will awe where ears glow deaf,
for we live from storm to storm, level to the sea
neath skies of bliss and skies gone mourning
Tidewater's revolving stage, bipolar fuse a bit.
Take that, the navy's deepest water and most sheltered base -
the Chesapeake and south of it...the Outer Banks

Choices

Agreed, we live to die,
but as to the insane being interesting,
insanity is just bizarrely stupid,
who act irrationally, and know not why.

Peeping Tom

The window is the peeper, not I.
I just look through it.
Fault me for owning a telescope?

Coastal Stretch

I live across from a toy light house
in memory of mariners lost wherever.
The light house keeper is a part-time guitarist,
who when the frost is gone,
plants tulips in the front porch
overlooking his garage.

And me? I'm the passing stranger,
30 years in the making
who drops by from time to time,
who may spend a summer painting seascapes
and has never made from one a dime.

May Day

Wind is the name of freedom
blows where it wills
stills where it sits
leaves and always comes back
takes and always deposits
scatters pollen, scatters snow
rain and dust
inspires a poetess not to rust

Wind filled sails
when bed sheets were not enough
Wind is the name of violence sublime

Every House, Its Flag Pole

The reason why women look like flowers
is because men look like apes

The realization hit me this morning
on seeing neighbor visit his mail box
He looked about bleary eye at the new day,
scratched and returned to his abode,
shirtless and hairy back.