Forbidden Ground
Wandering
beyond the limitation
of death
Trespassing
through the back gate
of forever
Maundering
alone in a virgin
wilderness
Witnessing
the future destruction
— of time
(Dreamsleep: May, 2025)
Bookends
Enough to be absent
he fumbled the words
His mind ever vacant
new truancies heard
Those spaces beyond him
those spaces behind
Bookends of fruition
— unspoken defined
(Dreamsleep: May, 2025)
Sognefjord Waiting
A mile
past tomorrow
a glacier
lies at rest
New memories stored
within its fjord
awaiting
— our behest
(The New Room: May, 2025)
In the wilderness of mirrors,
light unravels, names forget themselves,
ghosts slither between shards.
her maundering gaze ~ branches bleeding black~
finds the noir stitched in afterimages.
every reflection a fracture,
fault lines singing under her skin.
she enters her body ~ narrow , widening, monochroming ~ a hush, a hurricane.
we cradle broken glass,
drink the mirage,
offer our hearts to the hollow.
a crack, a glimmer ~ something bright leaks through.
in the wilderness of mirrors,
we are stitched into myth,
breathing silver and smoke.
our names fall away like old skin,
and what is left~ shines without needing to be whole.
and we vanish,
soft as light.
Written: April 22, 2024
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Whimsical whispers of spring wallow,
Awakening from nature's languid tingle.
You were maundering to strike back,
A euphonic kaleidoscope garden bloom.
Switching back won't suffice this time,
Changing seasons can't be tucked away.
In the depths of the spring warmth,
Embedded in the depths of your being.
Whispered by Equinox, an alias I once knew,
We are in a nexus by a motley thread.
In a world so bright, all else fades away,
I'll remain adorned in pristine periwinkle.
Leaping fish spawning
leaf floats by waterfall
lyrical bird sings
Waves crashing on beach
river maundering
clouds puffy white sail by
A mucky puddle
still holds the reflected night.
Two maundering starlings
peck at the dark pool
as if fishing.
One worm wriggles up,
the birds don't seem inclined
to eat it
one bubble in the puddle
surfaces -
I sense a kraken.
My mind mainly meanders where I yearn –
A universe where I cannot return,
To lament my life’s unchangeable truth
And exhume choicest corpses of my youth.
Maundering 'midst marshmallow memories
Seeking past life to savor and restore.
Dully shuffling worn cards of yesterday,
To deal winning hands I can never play.
Marshmallow memories circling as pi,
Swirling with desires destined not to die.
Memory's garden does not need my care,
Mowing spring lawns that are no longer there.
4/10/2023
The Plot Against the Giant:
First Girl
When this yokel comes maundering,
Whetting his hacker,
I shall run before him,
Diffusing the civilest odors
Out of geraniums and unsmelled flowers.
It will check him.
Second Girl
I shall run before him,
Arching cloths besprinkled with colors
As small as fish-eggs.
The threads
Will abash him.
Third Girl
Oh, la...le pauvre!
I shall run before him,
With a curious puffing.
He will bend his ear then.
I shall whisper
Heavenly labials in a world of gutturals.
It will undo him.
-by Otieno Elvis Gikoi
Little Temptations
Sultry this evening with temperatures rising
Nary a breeze whispers soft, ever slow
Tempting the flavor of love as I taste you
Drenched in your essence, above and below
Softly you sigh as my mouth finds your nectar
Coating my lips now a glisten with sheen
Maundering tender this garden of longing
Caressing petals so moist in between
There in your eyes as if heaven is pleading
High overhead for the whole world to see
Whispers afloat of a satin-like feeling
Hands follow curves as they wander so free
Clutching my hair with the passion of sunset
Fragrance alluring of fresh mountain yew
Willows still weep as I’m drawn ever deeper
Consuming the fruits ripened sweet of the view
Moans seem to echo as breaths leave me falling
Lost in the ecstasy found in a dream
Calling my name in a desperate fashion
Little temptations now more than they seem
Warm flowing syrup of a maple trees blushing
Pouring of love ever pure from the vine
Fill me with you as my hunger is needing
Every ounce of this moment divine
Good night Soupers
Wall to Wall a rich texture of beige and ivory
Door to Door the throat closing color of unripe green
Floors heavy metal wielding concrete from block to block
From the phosphorescent radio signal sifting cell light
To the argument compounding wall mounted flat screens
This place is just as much a safe haven
As it is the ticking of a time bomb clock
Blind to Jehovah's compassion we beg for peace
Within ourselves and for others we beg for prompt freedom
Released are our inhibitions toward what is right
As we selfishly and over zealously claim torn
Like the minds the bodies and the hearts of a lost fight
A maundering tumble weed aimlessly searching thoughts
We are while listening to another grown man cry
Hoping hope will lead us away from that state of farce
From Ramoth-Gilead to Tabor City in one night
From safety to new circumstances still God's mercy
As residence for the unintentional manslayer
Becomes a new home for criminals of every sort
There is a large percentage of those that wouldn't dare
Thank God for this place this time or for His active force...
and still there are those that do...thank you...YHWH
Yesterday, not only did prose taste strange
but an unfamiliar maundering
settled it's silence
upon my tongue
with an unsavory absoluteness
only the mouth could define,
yet mine voices nothing
now today I feel like my heart
bears some sort of physical deficiency
as if all the blood and ink consumed itself
leaving me dryly inadequate
to write a poem
and these fingers have been fidgeting
with a sick kind of worry,
starving for a fork
that not only cradles clarity
but also quells it's holder,
whilst nourishing the belly
with palatable substance