Long Kinked Poems

Of Him and not me?
Muttered the dragon, full-formed, wretched, 
Stench unfathomable, seething and snarling
His great lungs expanding and exhaling puffs of darkness
Slanted, shining, scorching eyes burning into my own

What light shines but His own? 
Have...

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What happened to my sex drive?

(sung – in a round pussy willow warble - to the tune of -- 
Oh Where Oh Where has my little dog gone).

Once pronounced libido of mine 
took kamikaze nose...

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Countless generations lapsed since height of Greco-Roman mythology conceived, birthed and populated vast canopy of sky and expanse of terrestrial firmament, whereat obeisant propinquity quintessentially remains stalwart this day and age as guise dolls dote...

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One day, Myopic Milo; went slithering across the street; and met with some misfortune; as a car, he tried to greet.

It really sent him flying; that half-blind, water snake; so to a chiropractor; a visit...

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There we were all tightly fit in a round circle of love
Pipes jointed one to another fed love from up above
Love was flowing through, with fruit each one supplying
Peace, patience, long suffering, we were not...

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(sung – in a round pussy willow warble - to the tune of -- 
Oh Where Oh Where has my little dog gone)

With a flam boy hunt deft jais nais sais quois 
firm lickey split...

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For all the times I’ve felt alone,
And in the stench of gross cologne,
For the fear of my life story,
I still don’t like the name of Cory.
I write this poem to remind my self
To not hit...

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Warped tree, kinked man 

Today, I will not argue with Walter on Facebook or Twitter.
I was reading poems from my last collection and was surprised
to find an internal rhythm.
To my horror, I find Walter has...

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In the sandbox of my memory
reasons come and go
Castles worn in corners scorned
left without a moat 

Granulated laughter
idle unreleased
Waiting for a last return
covered over deep

The jungle gym sits dormant
a mass of rusted links
One ring missing...

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It must be a muss
This tousled up nest
My mess with no fuss
Untidy, unkept
Shabby and ragged
Rough I confess
A random done gust
Just there with no sense
They’re tangled and knotted
Dreaded, complex
Strands shoot across 
In tattered up threads
Interlocking and...

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Who says a tree is bent, not straight, kinked?
For there are no straight lines in nature.
A line is a human abstraction, a connection between points.
Look around, all of nature is curves, coils, gnarls and bumps.
It's...

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Trapped in a maze 
Days upon days
Red’s turning green
Blue tones are gray

I’m lost in a hall 
Becoming more small
Available paths
Reveal a brick wall

A garden hose
Kinked at the nose
Water is running
With nowhere to flow 

I’m twisting,...

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