Slippery Sam, docks off and cold
went tracing, dungarees abounding, slave
to his wet briefs, seemingly sense sold –
encountering leaf and sea, an ocean wave
horriplating rocks and the dusty yellow smell
as in liquid splurtings or pollination save
that in all likelihood, realizing his clueless spell
moiled foam all over his face, white trouble
leaky spit careless and dripping shell,
a severe denial of his heart – its ceaseless rubble.

I frowned as I looked at slippery Sam how red
were both my lips and his, the smoky emerging lust
that shivers the foundations of the soul, an inky thread
singing vibrating between he and I, the neck’s forward thrust
and automatic jabs. Sam and I had long been together,
nearly always clasping, eternally clasping
standing and reeling in arms prognosticating weather
and before we realized- had both died- our tricky fasting.


I confess a reluctance to process the matter
Indigestion results from chewing bad food
verbiage might help empty these thoughts;
I see myself of many years ago:
I could not have imagined a better ally then,
Confidences and the worries of a young child
she made me her everything
and herself everything to me
soothed the frightful afterimages of bullies
and arranged for my incipient naiveté
children believe those they trust
told of enemies in sight
how my father Fent contrived to hurt
an unstable queen with her brood
now I have grown and cast off the trappings of juvenility
and she still yearns for simplicity; those years of shared time with son
conspiring against a father who knew only his family was distant
(know father I have grown and have always loved you)
she has fallen into a vast and simple nostalgia:
one who arranges for dependence upon a simple child
–the child is now grown, with vision in both eyes
such a desperate one
finds satisfaction only in harsh gestures
beating at the riverbed till the water becomes cloudy
must she obstruct her own clarity
though infinite peace beckons
trials should force one to become strong
how mighty the human soul!
how strange and brutal the need to suffer!
it is her wont
and I find it easier to stay true and cultivate new plants
Not lashed to the masts of a ship blowing towards self destruction
I hope she alters course
but I, with my wife Kal
find a beautiful openness with each other
I stand on two feet, sea-legs strengthened
by salt and grime
Father whole and in my life at this juncture
and how I express thanks to your humanism!

Fast and ever,
speedy the bright
till soil weals and field’s light
a beckon, a call, never

about all patterns, ne’er
near the edge of a cactus sit
men with teeth and trousers
near cat’s gesture with pale flowers
the men gaze, a counterfeit
form and function, the sun blooms

a beckon, a call never
till soil weals and field’s light
speedy the bright,
fast and ever