whiskey kiss

fire

and water

fist to sternum

shakedown stare

subtle feline grace

her silky sweet musk

none match the aura

swirling about

the room as we mingle

never a glance

denied acknowledgment

don't you even

dare give us away

souls so much alike

incestuous tinge?

dying to connect

living safely apart

ethereal words

never spoken

wasted chances or

mounting tension?

we lose track

who's the fool

and who's fooling

two wills cannot

both be boss

just remember

when the shoe falls

that first stinging sip

once ingredients mix

a strange elixir

is totally

ours

with all due respect

Saw a news report about a church in some other town. They are glad to meet at the high school gym. Pastor's office is a coffee shop with wifi. Nothing new, except, well, all the tithes go to meeting needs of people in the community. No overhead. No building. No staff salaries. All volunteer and donations. I got the feeling they intend to keep it this way, so, no capital campaign or property fund, just applying as much of themselves as they can to living out their worship by serving.

There was a single mom just overwhelmed because this group had provided some kind of health supplies that she couldn't afford for her kid, who could now live a much more normal life.

Oh, and this was in the "secular" media, mind you.

One question. Why in blazes is this going on *in some other town* and not everywhere?

dryer fresh

some may feel

familiar ways and means

as a soggy diaper

sagging to the floor

as depleted shame

with acrid sting

propels hopeless whimpers

yet

not in vain

help is upon us

strong caring hands

clean and anoint

vest renewed bodies

in people clothes

this time

shivering in the primordial chill
of a melt-off soaked field
amidst last year's stalks and pickings
wear some old clothes

is it about appearances?

grab some terrain
plunge those hands
deep as they'll go
wiggle around a while

in my youth and maybe yours
often scolded for sarcasm
an age when purposeful irony
yields blank stares at best

for acres and square lengths untold
dark gold free for taking

yet without it
we're done

eyes front and center
hands two and ten
stay in your lane
healthy wealthy and wise

unto the least of these
he says

flesh and bone
king and pauper
yield their substance
unto our time

respect your elders
it's your salvation

granules that nourish
our crops and bodies
in one form or another
witnessed what we yet cannot

from minerals
to chemicals
to materials
to things
for health
for life
for excess
for killing

hearken the ages

converse amongst ourselves

when suddenly
across the thawing tundra

a breeze

c'mon and love me

This place has a murk all its own. Not something one can describe. They say you gotta live in Manhattan at least once in your life, I dunno, but the D is, well, what it is. You make cars or maybe beer, or you make parts of cars or just money from people making cars. You put your kids through college and retire at 50. You uproot a neighborhood to put in an artery. Your gray skies yield snow but only when it's not raining. You decay while those who can build half-million dollar houses along dirt roads to the west. You sprawl till your belts break the sound barrier during rush hour. But in the theaters and clubs and music shops they have none of it. For the life of me I'll never fathom how you were blessed with such a buffet, a veritable rainbow of talent and insistence, a sheer V-8 driven creative powerhouse on wheels. Then in the mid-70s some boys from NYC were struggling to make a splash, along with their label. You were good to them and they never forgot you for it. Can't help but wonder if the muse was a real woman or just a well-crafted cloud in a hungry songwriter's sky, in dim lighting on a sultry eve where you read what you want written on her face. Seduction is not so much a game as an admission of selling out. That which you seek to own will own you.

other things

a quiet place to read

twice the legal limit

cockatoos and cockathrees

doctrinal disagreements

cabbage

my pants

puddle of mud

the finger

aunt so and so's record-contending troll doll collection

a wry wayward crust of orange peel seeking refuge beneath your keyboard

the word "butt"

then and now

those times when the radio plays just the right song

yeah

slayer of dragons

there she stood
arrayed in royal vestments
against the dungeon wall
as the dragon made play

upon this i stumble
arrayed in hoodie and jeans
she cries save me save me
i mutter mmmmmmmmmm kay

it occurs to me
as the beast turns and lunges
that dragons don't exist
then it faded away

and so

did she