The Silent Voices Sing Their Songs

hear them

those chattering squid in this low domed realm
where none, but one voice should reign supreme

amidst the vowel and mutter of the betraying line
a feral somnambulant sub-bourbon din

broken rhymes and half dulled whines
in a two fingered forfeit to a misjudged hint

that must keep this muddied crime equidistant
to the arcing theorem of sequenced chords

and the sleepless stipend of stalled persistence
clawed back from the vault of ill formed thoughts

Untitled (open to suggestions)

but for a dowried wager
would this possession ever have compiled
so sweet a digest of redemption
while yet lost under the carnal veil
of a blood petalled  bowery?

Fe2O3.nH2O

bulla pocked and vagabond
smoke away what few vagrant days remain
though your shallow cut still cleaves the hardest waves
this herniated lunge of stiff progress cannot belay
that fetid call of aged ptomaine
beneath  the brine toothed bouillon

Here

how much attention does this whore seek?
fracked and sluiced to release
every kind of juice that spills
from pores palm greased
with the patina of slovenly verse
paupered by the diminished returns
of a creased core
what is the call?

The Rain Will Cleanse

come downpour
unleash your jotting scribe to
to cast the showery runes of fables untried,
forge scripts along our droughty lanes
and songs for all that yet remain
or wash away those pages brown,
whelm witness to our temporal sway

Dry

how eagerly the earth swallows
each drop of these April showers,

such a thrilling treacled tickle
through the hardy efflorescence,

for she has such a winter thirst

Let Loose Those Hibernal Shackles

this spring morning,
summer’s aperitif,
was today served on the rocks,
shaken and stirred