Thursday, December 12, 2013

A blank check

Trust is always dubious
Even among close friends
Let alone political allies
Who see you as a walking wallet
And do not mind picking out
A few extra dollars
If you’re too stupid to notice
That blank check meant
To pay old debts
Exaggerated and split
Between conspirators
So that in the end,
They all get paid what they
Think they earned,
A dishonest honest living,
A fringe life
They know lasts
Only as long as the sucker
Doesn’t catch on,
And in some cases,
That sucker keeps signing
Away his life,
Never knowing
That he can’t trust those
People he trusts most:
Einstein once described
Madness as someone
Doing the same thing
Over and over again
Yet expecting a different
Result each time,
Some suckers never learn
And so always sign
That blank check,
And always are surprised
When it comes back
Ten times worse
Than he thought it would be.
It’s the cost of doing business
With crooks,
No matter how
Respectable they
Claim to be.

Saturday, December 7, 2013

Before the tides shift

You feel for it first in the dark – this and then than, before it all gets hard and you can’t stop what happens next.
The surge of blood through my head and I stop thinking about anything else, a reckless deep sea diver seeking the treasure buried in the deeps.
In the dark, eyes don’t help at all, and you must rely on your fingers to feel the place where it all erupts.
But it rarely starts there, always first with something more accessible, the soft touch of lips and then later, if I’m lucky hips.
It’s never about conquest with me the way it is with others.
I just like the feel of it, the lingering of lips and then the tips of tongues, that first intrusion into the unknown – I remember my first kiss and who it was with, though I didn’t get anywhere near the buried treasure.
Still even then, I felt every bit a pirate, stealing something to treasure then and later.
It’s always like that – especially in the dark where I have to let my fingers go where my eyes can’t, over the curved surface most easily mounted, and later, into the warm, moist world sunken so deep it takes more than a finger to get to it completely.
It’s not always possible to get more, and so later, I get to think about the touch of it, the moist feel of where the fingers went, and the taste of it, when I’m lucky to get that far.

In the dark, where the real treasures lie, sometimes I have to be a pirate, taking what I can get before the tides shift, and I’m washed back out to sea.

Never enough

The sunlight streaks
Across her face
From the edge of
The kitchen window
As if creating it
And her, carving
Every curve from
The curve beneath
The blouse
To the lip I bit
In that pre-dawn fit
It still dripping
As we sit and sip
Our coffee this early
Morning in July,
The curve tip hard
Against the sheer
Fabric she slipped into
Drawing my gaze now
Where my lips and tips
Of fingers went,
The hunger hardly abated
This lust for blood
Stirred in my veins and brain
This need for more
Always at the core of me
Pressing up out of me
Seeking to go deeper
Each time, knowing
In the end

It can never be enough.

Winter bloom

It is not the summer flowers
I lust for most when I stroll
These remote paths
But the winter blooms
That loom over me
Or over which I stumble
Pedals spread wide before
My upturned face
Where I might catch the
Lingering scent of once
Rich perfume,
And let the tip of my tongue
Linger in the thick nectar
My fingers gripping long stalks
At whose ends un-burst buds
Ooze still with fresh dew
This loneliness exposed
This naked truth
Stripped to the bone of me
So that I am expose
Inside and out
Leaving me here
With only heavy sighs
And the winter mists

For comfort

Wednesday, December 4, 2013

Coming up for air

If I had gills
I could do this better,
Breathing water
in which I refuse
to drown
fins that might
spin me up
to places
where I might
find something
less liquid to
or a tail to flip
so I might sip
real air
the haze of this life
wiping clear
the horizon I have
grown accustomed
to seeing
as thick as sea water
and as hard to breathe
when I rush so hard
to catch a breath
I can’t ever hope to catch,
Too deep in this
To ever come up

For air