supernova

star light star bright
the first star I be tonight
I wish I may, I wish I might
supernova…

to burst violently as a result of internal pressure.
to shatter with a loud noise:
to make an emotional outburst:
to increase suddenly, sharply, and without control:

worm's descent

worm's descent


worms
regret your crucified torment
as my solitude cries tainted in rapture
your sweet touch grovels before these stained tears
death waltzes about these graves

the asylum summons the embittered void
lock up the yearning twilight concubine
faith cries vile fragments
as my icarus cries hollow impudence
and then descends

this torrential rain of tears engulfs the nebulous
vengeful crippled emotions lash out
then languish
writhe midnight terror beneath the sky’s cold fire
emptiness consumes these feebled passions

worms
your touch eviscerates my infernal penance
my mask pales at gloomy deception
my prey lies weeping
a feral gossamer darkness
a shallow desperate requiem

blazing pinions recoil from murmuring decrepitude
wolves silent in nocturnal caresses
fated mortals taunt this blackened passion
their hunger scoffs at virginal despair

delicate treachery
thorns languish
this incessant psychosis calls forth
the unfathomable splendor
pyres run amuck through the whirling night
while loneliness plucks flowers from these dying tombs

reading from "Winter Poetry"

a winter morning


a rippling field of snow
shaking with honeyed love
and squealing through despair.
whilst hot lovers cavort playfully
in shades of green with silver trim
time sleeps peacefully in strange virtues.
the morning sun draws red flushes;
the snow ground lies in fields of white
while bloody sunrise awakens across the horizon.

the gusting wind nudges tactfully
preying with outright longing
and lying determinedly in cold desperation.
whilst chilly winter cavorts
into chilly air,
and daylight strikes in orchestral splendor.
morning paints magenta filigree,
day ripens
as night at last coldly fails.

a child rants dramatically
rambling with tossed dismay
and groaning brightly in glee.
whilst searing candles laugh merrily
the stars to their heavens,
and this season dreams in anger.
the winter’s sun spreads in blinding pigments,
life continues to grow beneath hardened ground
and a single snowflake melts
a teardrop sliding down my windowpane.

the cat lady

I do not know her name… I have never heard it spoken… there is no "Cat Lady" in the phone book.

She talks to cats and they talk back because even cats get lonesome. Perhaps she play Elvis records… or maybe Roy Orbison… dances by the sink while washing dishes… and is careful not to trip over the cats. It is the peculiarity of life that she takes better care of the cats than she does of herself.

After church she waits by the doors and smiles at the congregation… she is the one waving goodbye as people rush home or head out shopping. They nod to her without seeing her, but they never speak. It is inconvenient for them… she is inconvenient for them. After, she walks the path along… through the cemetery… across the crushed browned leaves… by the stones with the names that she remembers… she speaks to the dead then goes home and talks to her cats.

I do not know her name… I have never heard it spoken… there is no "Cat Lady" in the phone book. I am the visitor… the outsider… the transient passer-by who comes on the bus, and leaves on the bus, in a cloud of dust I wear no halo… I say no prayers… for I have no dominion. When we speak I shall have no answers.

Saturday Night