Night Train (A Whistle through Veins)

varied configurations
of the same concept

still yielding piss n’ salt
enough to mix up
the results

and if i’m known to my few friends for my best
and they just bury the rest, my floating
body still sees no stop nearin’
for broken road’s
rest,

i’ll pull the cord, sound the
whistle n’ wait here
anyway

leavin’ the rest
to mess with
fate.

image: https://fineartamerica.com/featured/boy-on-a-train-joel-smith.html

image: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/British_Railways_Mark_1

Bird's Eye Bluff (Feathers n' Fluff)

to vision, my sunsets are
gettin’ shorter and the
lines to see her
grow longer

long spanning cliff’s craggy
crest to my rocky
bottom,

cloud’s cotton sorta slows
the plummet, batting wings
like a feathered idiot,

fine in the head though
beak’s a little jagged,
call the crooked crows n’
come peck at my lids
.

image: https://5erg.wordpress.com/tag/crow-art/

image: https://society6.com/product/crow-wisdom_poster

Knick-Knacks on my Tracks

there’s a chewed up box of
kick knacks left on
my train’s brain
tracks,

hear the whistle sound off
in distance, wind’s resistance
depletes with my implied
insistence,

light teases at the tunnel
like eyelash flutters when
flooded with sun’s
brilliance,

there’s a chewed up box of
thumb tacks left on these
diesel heart’s cracks

and the tunnel eye’s
now bleedin’ black
and not only in
appearance.

image: https://www.pinterest.ca/pin/480618591457102022/?lp=true

image: https://thoughtcatalog.com/christine-stockton/2013/11/16-peoples-terrifying-encounters-with-the-black-eyed-kids/

Here and Gone (and i long for Angel's Eyes)

each crooked step, each
shallow print left just fades
like tissue wave as death
train speeds away,

thought i’d have riper
regrets n’ cheeks would
rest less cement n’
more wet

than tight-strung tongue when
heart’s wings unfold soft
n’ golden to say

here or gone, i’ll love you
in all my restless,
deathless
ways.

image: https://www.artmajeur.com/en/elena-kotliarker/artworks/8931745/the-angel-wings-series-3-the-white-and-gold

image: https://fineartamerica.com/art/paintings/abstract+angel+wings

Coffee in the Courtyard

ivy alone, dressed the stone
in spring courtyard

as breeze confirmed my deep
need for autumn cozy in
morning shivers
like these
.

the service was beyond
exquisite, the food too,
but i was having
none of it,

just somethin’ hot and
bitter for mulling over
midst sporadic
puckered
sips,

kissin’ at dear dawn
with frosted
lips,

and naggin’ was my guilt
over the pittance tossed
as server’s tip
.

come next sun, i’ll return,
n’turn back to stone and
atone for stingy slip,

i alone, sit dressed in stone
in winter’s yard and
ivy’s grown over
my bones.

image: https://www.pinterest.ca/pin/295408056782828149/?lp=true

image: (some rebloggy site i can’t seem to find again, my apologies to original photographer)

Warm Heart, Cold Hands

out driftin’ raft along
morn’s crystal
beach

i dream her shading
shoreline’s silver palms
helpless in forever’s
hands
,

like kids prefer swimmin’ waves
with dirt bunnies under the
front porch in hopes of
finding bottle cap or
equal treasure,

over the automated
after pose for flashing grins,
now pose n grin again and again
and again for vulture
living inside a
mother

it’ just the
culture,

i still imagine her helpless
by sea’s caresses but ne’er
when heart’s courage
demands,

and ‘spite this old heart’s
warming to hold you
i’ve only these
icy hands.

image: https://www.pinterest.dk/pin/460704236852789953/

image: https://www.ft.com/content/8db2fc9a-44ee-11e9-b168-96a37d002cd3

Lamps Lit

grown bored of my face
in room’s lighting
one day,

i flew broomstick to store
to check out bulbs discounted
and displayed

judging by the wattage,
not sure they’d be safe
in these ol’ lamp
sockets,

guess we could just try it
and pray the paper
shade’s effective,

tho barely flammable, i crave
a lift in light, not hell’s
inferno.

image: https://photographyinsider.info/light-painting-photography-tutorial/

image: http://clipart-library.com/dim-light-cliparts.html

Cartoon Character

outside’s peekin’ in again
at tiny man inside
my tuna can

you smell him from the loosening roof
as goldfish troupes flow through
a rather curious pour

into bottomless soul’s
rice krispy killer
cereal bowl

on gone weekend cartoon
morning, pacing adults
on patrol.

image: https://dribbble.com/shots/2821978-Little-Boy-Boredom

image: https://awesometotallyawesome.com/the-10-presents/the-10-saturday-morning-cartoon-edition-the-80s/