Not The Rockefellers

let’s talk about cupcakes  tall & frosted dynamite tucked inside

i recall the tug the inescapable call of a perfect storm my legs paper cranes tossed through glass  my soul did not flinch yet i blinked twice & in the distance wild flickers coaxed toothsome tribal timpani it’s a jungle in here 

the rasp of an echo stuck in flight noises for the hard of feeling

she flips the world off the end of her cigarette  yawn. insouciant nicotine angst

as long as you are able to tie a good knot keep on drifting all is not lost

i  love to see compassion cut through backyards and happen whatever the weather

be a lamb, dear and find me fetching for awhile or at least until the sun sets

please do not mind the tea cups they’re for company when they’re ready to call on me

you terrify me it’s your dishonesty your deft spinning of the facts into this years fabric of fiction camouflage the masses in hollowpoint buzzwords just enough truth makes them dangerous

I am gonna let the day unroll as it may and keep the hell out of its way

how the light this time of the day warms my brittle soul small & grey

i watch way too many re-runs and console myself with bad puns

my alphabet arms  snatching clouds  your heartbeat  on my back i flew

such sweet trouble sitting still on her window sill fresh hot apple pie temptation

she  smiled made eye contact  then  walked on by like Warwick  on water

put a word here and then there gather them ‘round you watch as they open up their eyes singing, showing teeth from your hand feed them the truth

i am butter on wheat toast a blue checkered plate a sharp green crayon coffee date

holes in hearts and shoes souls and toes exposed raw red ripe for the stubbing

a remnant tenement bound stamped unworthy a torn paper crown

upon a mountain we sat souls dug in good upright still as statues while smoke & hot valley whispers tangoed up tripping wild as lightning we stayed as they smothered us & prayed for them to cover us

you fill my mouth with psybeams a scratch of moondust winking under your fingernails

i don’t  want to die in ordinary time a moveable feast day  would suit me fine

your anger is a scab knit over surrender  i am not your captor

great empires are rising underneath floorboards  as we paint the sky

love is unquiet a five o'clock whistle dragged across bow strings

old women sweep the steps so gingerly as if heaven spilled spice

tuck me in between your this & that your unholy bric-a-brac

it was finished. over. done. good-bye. no take backs. we watched the sun set in silence, no single word, or better choice could’ve changed its course.

poked in the eye by a dumb ol’ star try'na catch a glimpse of the moon

this bleeding sun clove studded seedless this morning fire kickstarter of kettles & kitchen gods

and there in that big empty new moon unlit night i spoke my wish into my hands and held them closed tight

you are the channel just allow creation to happen uncensored 

flip-flops telegraph summertime serenades coast to coast