By Request

There are those moments

Those rare moments

That can be most commonly found on bright fall dawns

Amidst the suggestion of awakened morning dew

When the sun brushes a kissed hand

Across the long hair of an open field

This is where you will find me

The sky-veiled universe sheds its light

Letting wiser orbs look down upon us

With endearing candor

And recommendations of synchronicity

Because they - the orbs - are never alone

Burning hot with explosive epilogues

I hope to find you

Are you here tonight?

Do those hands seek the same epilogues?

As they draw my wings back down to sides

And land this amorously peaceful flight

Tell me the orbs are wiser

Tell me the dew is awake

Tell me if you are here tonight

We Are Holograms

Ladies and gentlemen, tonights are the nights that define us

     and who we are as sad melodies inform us of our circumstances

Never forget me, and the adobe winds that whistle salvation

     across jersy shores at midnight where narrow eyed journalists

     were burned alive

And live by the scruffy-bushed portraits of veterans resting on
     our sequoian mantle and by the indignant flames nestled in

     limestone hearths

Our times are ruminating on the golden arches of ronald
     raptures and the souls of rescued rappers; Whitman and
     Ginsberg are weeping

Take root in the honesty of Patagonia and Adirondack lapping
     the summations of Navajo chronicles and the butcher
     allegories of Constantinople

Dream of the Vatican and Oz on the same naked night and you
     will know the bruised bones of us iridescent holograms

The Monster Returns (II)

It is too late for me.

The night has buckled and swallowed me up

Along with the winter of a Northern Michigan

While I had meditated on the white treads of my want

written by others before in a path that snaked for miles.

I thought I had given it everything already...

It returned, the monster, six times that night

It wanted more

So it showed its long terrible splintering spears

Its eyes remained black and lifeless

And it wore furs of all wolf-like kinds including my own Shady

At points it was treacherous with leaping purple necks

Or bore the talons of a raccoon trotting like a sheep

These are quite literal

My verse and my voice and my solitude had broken down

It demanded more and I knew not how to give it

And then it came for her - I had already surrendered her

But it wanted to remind me, to vilify any shattered shrapnel of the wound I had left

And once again I gripped her and shook her with my barren desperation

We have been here!

Horrified.

"What's happening to us?" - desperation without question.

Barren.

It screamed... it roared... all the terror and cosmos I knew of

So I raced to the edge of the stairs and to the edge of the cusp and to the edge of its gaping jaws

Open wide, it revealed my dead mother, my dead Shady, my dead--

Awake, I knew.

The Monster is here to stay.