kutkolors

answers seem to find their way
into a hammer forged barrel that plays
vaudeville with him the dummy,
and he is speaking to us all
violently screaming his dismay

flickered mirage
shifting in
quantum
buzzing
bar-coded
bonanzas

I say goodnight to the moon
and await the sun

In the dead of night these hoods
ain’t got any snowy woods
our trees are few and far between

she moored at lines
that moved like clouds,
but grew like vines;

he poured in lament
to fill the void,
to pull him down in his decent;

the way he would greet the world
during the sun’s reign spoke volumes
about where he thought his scepter belonged.

dodging death
and life

winter’s perfect face, a seraphim,
intoxicating sketch of self aloft,
a bedroom waltz turned requiem,
numbered days in love, o soft

the ether, lined with majestic azailias that
shone with grace in crystallized plum
shoots, mauve and grape lines that stung
the iris, blinding me, bending me humble

and we continue to march forward
dripping with liberty and justice for all
bled from the veins of the earth herself
therein lies the red upon our flag

and he, body long as a horizon, bends
the light, all suffused and dripping from him
riding the edges of his sanity that falls
over the edge of the rampart

"Help me…" It pleaded. My fear overwhelmed the physics of movement. To this day I would swear the door began to open.

I brace myself as I head toward
what appears to be a door
to a distant place
and hold open the wind
that kisses me sadly

she loved me and I loved her and
in between recess and love we
would chase each other to pin our
love notes on each other’s heart

and when she looked at me, usually
in wonder, I would m…

as I sat
huddled against the
hieroglyphics scratched
in a trance along the
rusted bars of this tijuana cell
I noticed the overripe waterbug
scurrying across the freedom
land, shiny an…

she has dug in deep
built a niche in the darkness
of my heart

laid down planks of heartwood
harvested from yew, osage-orange,
hackberry and sassafras

she has known for centuries
th…

Paper towels. Buy paper towels. I should have written a note.

I didn’t notice the news stand. Great, papers everywhere.

Standing with a salad of mixed dollar bills in my hand I am froze…

when I found him
he was lying on the cold floor
of the men’s room
a petri dish of disease and refuse
he was trembling
though I could not tell if it
was because of the drugs
or the musi…

heat
bullets
noise
pain
death
nothing

"Where are you?"
she would ask, tenderly
stroking my shoulders and back
damp with sweat from yet
another romp

third one tonight
three or four in the morning
now
but I can escape the …