Saturday, December 13, 2008

Love's Tender Violence

We lost all sense
of love's tender violence
as we raided each others dreams,
invaded convenient bodies whole,
and stole their ghosted voices;
renewed actors in an unrehearsed play
pulsating images of fluent whimsy
across a foreign planet's stage,
we lit an impassioned sky
of love's tender silence
where its invisible ink
will never

An Immodest Proposal

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Mesh customized models
Grow innovative portals
Brand web-enabled applications
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Generate next-generation initiatives
Transform strategic systems
Scale customized vortals
Enable seamless methodologies

Command your platforms with Authority.
And walk defiantly with hip waders.

Friday, December 5, 2008

City Lights

I raced the night fantastic
over soulless rooftops
whispering my neoned escape,
over bitter hills of
half bitten dreams arriving late,
rising high over pale
white lights below,
and higher still
into the stilled air,
I dropped, flashing white,
and melded into earth.

I raced the night fantastic
over Embarcadero darkness,
whispering my neoned escape
into the brickened hills
of half bitten dreams arriving late,
falling slow to pale
white skin of
Broadway inviting me within
the cavern air, still,
I dropped, breathing stilled,
and melded into flesh.

I raced the night fantastic
jonesing for my lyrical fix.
I whispered my neoned escape
down narrow stairs
into translucent dreams arriving,
falling slow to poetic hypnotism
of passioned voices
of epiphonic choices
into the stilled air,
I soared flashing white
and melded into
the night

Sunday, November 30, 2008

From The Blessings of True Fables

Outside the Palace of Fine Arts
the brassy bedouin gifted
this uneasy teen
her guitar.
And as
he slipped beneath
the sassy spell of
crazed voodoo spirits,
wicked fingers blazed
electric on its strings,
and wailed alongside the waif's bluesy
this-is-the-last-song-I-will-ever-sing voice.
A mic in one hand and swigs of
Southern Comfort from her other,
she would dub him "Raoul",
an unsung
sober no longer
in the drunken
of the spring moment
that would never
leave him.

The Bowl

The still air stabbed by foreign words.
"I hate you, daddy."
Its dull thunder rumbled through
his humbled body
and left
as an uninvited guest.

A distant star dimmed.

Feeble eyes darted
to regain
Guilt replaced the drained blood.


The star brightened.

"You know, sweetness,
I would probably hate my daddy too
if he didn't let me have
my fourth bowl of ice cream!"

Their duet of unbridled bouquets
of laughter
squealed from the carpeted floor.

Through A Scratched Sky

Grape squeezed with thumb and finger,
juices lingered on her face,
traced her chin
and fell starkly on pale skin

like souls sliding through a scratched sky
asking "Why, why this madness?
What address is sin?"
then fell deep within

the seams, the screams of insanity,
urgent vanity, unsung stirring,
blurring the real and surreal in,
within ether sweetened wind.

Crisp water erased
in haste, what laced our gruesome feast,
and released the redemptive unseen,
that keen white towels wiped clean.

Having kissed broken glass
we passed hallways of mute nether.
Whether passive souls can weep,
they keep our unfulfilled sleep.