Yellow stucco-walled, for house;
That in front warm-paved.
Brightly blazing, pot on pot
Here and there seed-saved.
Of Summer, what is gazed through
In its setting's lace
Can but, in feminizing
Enhance, dear, your face.
poor
compliments
abound
nothing
put
into
words
peeling
stucco
fading
into
the unconscious
an
absence
of
atmosphere
careless
sentiments
of
the
austere
too
vague
surreal
elementary
&
the
unreal
Robot with a Heart
Would you stop and think,
and see a robot blink,
or shovel a bolt or nut
into a hungry gut?
Have you a heart or not?
Signed, your loving bot.
Me and My Shadow
Me and my shadow made quite a pair.
Only he would always be there.
Someone I could to tell my troubles to,
as the day wore on, his presence grew -
but when the sun went sinking down,
he packed his bags and he left town.
Cold and Dark
An image stark,
cold and dark -
I see only
an old man, lonely.
Would warmth and light
make it alright?
Funerals in Season
Funerals in season -
We know the reason.
We don't have to be told
we're growing old.
Today's Snail
Today's snails act differently.
One crawled up my stucco wall, you see.
Wouldn't it be a surprise
to see a snail roll his eyes?
Royal sigh of prettiness; a dreamy flame
Sunbeam stars - cream house its frame
Purples rappel down the stucco siding
Creeping phlox, magnanimous tiding
Ruby-throated hummingbirds near it
Wise flowers attend to one’s spirit
Tired War,Release the Monkeys
They tried to nail my boot to the floor
No nail puller
My influence won the day
I was the monkey man
Earn the right
I want to ask
Just for a little more time
Growing life growing tree
just to lose it
Can't you see
Life got to be better
Once I lit that cigarette Ocean of tomorrows
Swells
Fasten our belts
There's air escaping This world has a leak
Just before a cats shadow beyond the hill
Against the grayish stucco plastered wall
Fortune of forever
Now its in your face
Fear fear fear
its all coming together
Together
Why I fear completion
Or falling apart
Put your mind in another place
Seeing the sun cut out to shade
I promise to do enough
oxygen enough empty space for you
To have another cigarette
Well I can't say that you suck
Unless I can do better
But even then
I saw monkeys
Hooked up to masks
I wondered who is actually murdering their ass
Well the monkey mysteriously went away
Hope take me away from tragedy
My old friend stayed
Giving death sentences like belonging to some hell bent regime
The trumpets sounded
I let it finish
I faded into forget
.
and i look'd
look
piercingly
mine see fix'd
az
stucco
az the skill'd plasterer
haz laid
I
mine eyne
lock'd
knowingly
unto hern
flesh
Hit your head against the proverbial wall
Your everyday Nafferti in stucco
carries the wind
but being only seventeen
whose opinions ran counter to the realm
Pale daughters yawn diligently
They've lost the art of commitment
Are they truly free ?
Talking in whispers
the World does not care
wind wisps dark locks
from her brow
green eyes gaze
across
saguaro spiked slopes
over
sticks and stucco
where once was a river
and corn grew tall
her mama's native blood
her dad's rugged heart
she belongs to this land
pushed her baby
up this mountain
where two centuries ago
sentinels kept guard
now come here to see
sticks and stucco grow
and watch her generation
manage water
(Meade was full last
the year she was born)
see her nurse her dream
graduation
career launch
marriage
money
pay too much for
sticks and stucco
raise above average kids
walk them all
up this mountain
on Thanksgiving
while today
her baby's stroller
chases grandpa
down the hill
so full of giggles
tomorrow grandbaby
stands on this peak
on the brink of her
sticks and stucco
and I pray
grandpa’s here
too
Pink flamingos prance with Hooper cranes
high above a vaulted mall ceiling,
a China-blue sky paints fluff upon stucco clouds.
I hold your hand playing hide and seek,
intimate inmates in our open cage,
we are concealed inside a crowd of glitter tramps.
There are rampant plaster angels,
there are neon rainbow fountains,
there are screaming cherubs.
Eyes mob shop windows.
I lose you in the crush and crowd.
Jewelry dazzles on blue velvet carousels.
Spied you on the edge of a mirror,
you’re seeking my fractured reflection
yet too many fake diamonds impede.
Murals crumble under a thronging press,
exit doors spin, spun by a midday sun
no one but I can see the ghost riders.
Found you under a plastic palm.
I thought you carried a child in your arms -
it was just my love that you held so tight.
6/5/22
Underneath the night sky
No more Mr. Nice guy
My my, how time flies
F*** all these white lies
To you it seems out of this world and Sci-Fi
To me it's natural like a hippie wearing tie-dye
Another high tide
Rarely on the sidelines
Hardly feeling likewise
Much to accomplish in a lifetime
Took some tumbles
Held on didn't fumble
No longer puzzled
Disgruntled
I often mumble
Liquor I guzzle
Then smoke some diamonds or sugar, f*** crumble
Around the corner is often trouble
Feathers easily getting ruffled
Leading to a rumble
We'll see who is the king of the jungle
And who is humbled
Go ahead and chuckle
But how quickly you'll struggle
Then buckle
Before seeing double
Me and a bucko
Finished the job with stucco
Just know
Can't afford to be a Dumbo
Need to do it with gusto
House needs to be jumbo
Bank account needs to be Mutumbo
Got to keep it a hundo
Or I'm donzo
Naples perches in its own white washed stucco
Brilliant white. It almost hurts the eyes.
An irregular pitch of cliffs subsumed into terra cotta tiles
Orangish-red like scales of some headless fish
Arising from a rocky classic shore.
This, like the first Ulyssess would see of dear Penelope.
Her would-be suitors frothing like a sea.
These roofing tiles, the faithful terra cotta hue.
Not like the terra cotta Chinese warriors
Who, though sculpted in a terra cotta clay,
Stand immobile in a ghostly mummy dust.
Colors have more to do with light
Than material with which a thing is made.
Ye old West signposts, green with needle-spurs:
Santa Rita prickly pear, pancake prickly,
plenteous buckets and sunset pink occurs.
It’s mountain time to sip some wine dearly
as the cacti shadows wax in the desert
and the elephant head’s fading quickly.
Breakfast in the stucco casa like dessert -
a dutch baby with segmented mandarin fruit.
Golden Retriever’s friendly and the striped cat’s curt.
Kabob sidles through crack - cat’s bedroom route,
lies on the visitor’s quilt - comfortably cute.
2/9/2022
The church I went to as a teenager
was full of sex.
It seeped through the worn wooden pews
into the pours of our hands.
It sluiced around the stucco walls
and fake stained-glass windows.
The aroma of young girls at prayer
was overpowering.
On the surface older people
seemed oblivious to this sea of sensuality,
yet when I looked closer
peeping over the edge of my hymnal
I saw folks with closed eyes,
backs arching, many
holding onto some unexpected
yet well-known arousal.
A stirring gravity enthralled us
as we orbited a magnetic divinity.
That day I knew intuitively
that the holiness of life was a passion
gifted to us by an even greater passion -
one that loves us.
Tall and narrow,
the houses stand,
wall against wall,
hunched together
on the edge of the
cobbled street,
as if armed against
the unknown.
Tiny balconies
Where laundry
Used hang on railings
To dry, now bursting
With potted plants
Walls bright yellows,
greens and blues,
stucco and stone
mortared together
hundreds of years ago
by stout men in
leather aprons
with the rudest of
implements,
they lean inward
over the street,
which once ran with mud,
the contents of
slop jars, and wash water.
Now teeming with tourists
who hobble on the cobbles,
peering into first floors,
converted into tiny shops
crammed with hats
and shirts and sandals,
soaps and wine and bracelets,
postcards and paintings,
candy and local delicasies.
Oldtown suddenly finds itself
squarely in the middle
off the twenty-first century.
A palette of sounds, smells, and colors;
Spring fills the canvas of my mind
with Her stoic beauty.
And once more, Her fabulous frescos,
fuel my passion for impressionism:
when She dapples Winter's wet stucco
with vibrant splashes of color.
And my heart is stimulated
by Her earthy sweet-scented breath.
Nothing feels as refreshing
as a Spring shower;
the feel of renewal
is encapsulated within each drop.
Robin-Redbreasts and daffodils;
early harbingers of Spring,
magically, change the landscape.
Flowers bloom in copious colors;
and songbirds add a vibrant pulse
to the heart of Spring!
I cherish Spring's sweet smile;
for smiles are made of hope:
and hope is the promise of Spring.
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