Heat Stroke

Damn it all.
This is driving me mad.
Like dogs and Englishmen
under the broiling summer sun.

I do not enjoy summer.
Slow shimmering burn
of your clingy moist heat.

I do not enjoy simmering cremation.
The rancid smell of my sweat oozing
between bodily cracks and crevices.

Clearly I am no Sam McGee for
I truly believe:
It is much nicer to have ice
in my boots and toes.

My Song

This is my song
It isn’t very long
In fact, it’s kinda short
Cause this is all I wrote.

I could have made it longer
But then it would be even wronger
Cause then this damn song
Would be way too long

And now that I am done
I must say it was rather fun
This reble act of creation
Brought me much elation

Fini.
Funny.
Run.

Vortex

English: A small whirlpool in a pond

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

no matter how stable
no matter how calm
somehow you manage
to turn it all wrong

one moment we’re laughing
the next moment you’re gone
leaving me to wonder
where I really belong

I don’t need the turmoil
of a daily crisis du jour
where the sad end result
is this same tired song

no matter how crazy
no matter how odd
somehow you expect
I’ll just go along

Well here’s a surprise
for you to enjoy
I’m done with the battles
I’m sounding the gong

I’m escaping your vortex
that is keeping me down.

Poem: Other Words from 1994

Random verses written while on
a 30-day camping trip for two.
I had dreams she didn’t share…

Blurb 1:

Candle light
shadows
Reflecting
in your eyes
I lean forward
catching your eyes
Reflecting
in my eyes
Reflecting
in your eyes
Reflecting
infinitely
Candle light
shadows.

Blurb 2
She slithered
forward
silver scales
glistening
brandished
her hands
She touched
burning
smoldering
raw flesh
I am
now marked
and owned.

Poem: More Words from 1994

Random verses
written on a beach south of Tofino
at the end of a 30-day camping trip:

i watch you sit
watching waves
churning
crashing
spray cold on our skin

we build castles
from mud and sand
towering
edifices
topped with seashells

the tide creeps in
toppling our work
erasing
eroding
all traces of us

the pacific waters
laps against my feet
splashed
scoured
i am driftwood lost

you already are
warm back in the car
waiting
planning
our next destination

i watch the sunset
you honk the horn
‘fuck you’
i mutter
knowing that you made it clear

there is no hope in hell.