Bob Dylan Moon

I was watching
Scorcese’s
No Direction Home
about Bob Dylan
who I never really
cared for but
what the hell
I thought
Then I saw the
outline of the
palladium window
glowing on the wall
and said out loud
it must be a
full moon
so I went out
on the deck
and there was a
full moon
What this has
to do with
Bob Dylan
I don’t know
maybe

Bob Dylan
is the
full moon
shining through
palladium windows
but I doubt it
He just stepped
on a raw nerve
at the right time
dreaming he was
Woody Guthrie
under a
full moon

Bouquet

The devil is obsequious
in his garden

A green thumb for
black blooming
uncertainty
rooting
rising
stinking
gnawing
in man’s
fertile gut
and it’s always
in season

Hell is confusion –
that’s not
what you heard?

Are you sure?

No need to die
to arrive

Putrid new doubts
delivered
daily

It Rained All Day

There’s no point
that’s the gist
Smoke a joint
Make a fist

I’ve done one
skipped the former
Bloody knuckles run
red wine feels warmer

My dreams I find
on sun-drenched waves
A trick of the mind
It’s rained all day

There’s nothing for it
just lines that rhyme
from a poor, bored poet
and a glass of wine

Love Undying

The bluebells!
The bluebells!
How my heart
swells to
bursting now
recalling how
with such
tenderness
their delicate
fingers
traced and draped
the nape
of the
river’s
neck.
How can one
forget
such innocent
loveliness
and yet
they are
no more,
enraptured
by the
heart of
Spring
they fled
with him,
leaving me
bereft
and the
forest floor
an abhorrent
wasteland
of poison
vines
but in my
minds eye
the bluebells,
demure and
pure as
the azure
sky . . .

Forever the bluebells

no bake messiah recipe

It pays to be a god
BEFORE
you’re dead,
and the recipe
to make that kind
of bread
can be read
in any
history
book –
just follow
these simple steps!

By rule
fools
will
be led

MUST
be led
and you

if you’re
clever and can
cobble enough
together
that believe your
well blended
blather

then you

like past masters
of the godly
ruse
will be paid
handsomely
too

slice and serve

Transformation

Strawberry jam

Careless smear
on her white
teddy bear
becomes blood
with wear

Eye lost
Limb torn
So many hugs
hair worn short
A horror story
evil is born

Forlorn

Decades
forgotten
in the back
of the attic
Angry

Dirty

Alone

Waiting

It’s No O’Clock

Time is
undivided
wild
unbridled

tanned and toned
with curly blonde
locks
bounding over
mountaintops

through deep
sea gloom

in the
emergency room
when they call
time-of-death

in the creasing lines
beside my eyes

from fingertip to fingertip
holding all of space
primordial

ancient
never aging
a day

surfing “OM”
through Himalayan
caves
not here
not there
nowhere
everywhere
I can say

I’ve seen him
on occasion

grinning

watching me
race
to and fro
as though
I could
outpace him

Deep Things

Searching life for some
modicum of meaning
I dug deep
discovering

desperation
and
confusion
in the throes
of passion

thrashing

clumsy

squealing

hormonal teens
in a small
back seat

surely
no good
could be
born of
these!

so I hosed them down good
sent them to their rooms
and the

abrupt
sweaty
silent
aftermath
held the
answer

at last