bbq chicken dream

It was a blustery winter's day. Danny and I were talking in the courtyard when at least a hundred strange beasts flew over. Loud monkey hoots and screeches filled the air. They tumbled in the breeze like autumn leaves, broad and paper thin with white fringes on their sides and down their long thin tails. Changing colors simultaneously, yellow to blue to red, sifting through the limbs of trees and disappearing en mass over the blue horizon.


I looked at Danny. Dumbfounded.

"Sail monkeys." Said Danny. "Wildlife agents released them to curb the overabundance of Glider Turtles."

waxing gibbous

Butterscotch shadows flickered on the ceiling.

The katydid's relentless cadence creaked and groaned in the darkness like an old rocking chair.
"Can you hear them?" She asked.
"I cannot." I whispered.

Gazing now, I asked.
"If the moon sang, what would be the song?"
"Depends on the phase." She said.
"Full"
"It would be a jolly song." She replied.
"A jolly song indeed." I agreed.

The drive home revealed a butterscotch moon. Canted westward.
Waxing gibbous.

Three quarters jolly on the night's last refrain.

ablution

Late day, darkened sky, rumble in the west.
Humidity, high, sweaty, nigh to ninety at it's best.
Thunder, steam, the tree frog's scream, harkens what comes next.
Shirt removed, britches too, and then remove the rest.

Here it comes, a flash, a crack, turn to face the wind.
A drip, a splat, a pit, a pat, soon it will begin.
A dribble, drop, a spit, a plop, a drizzle gust and then.
The deluge sheets, the ozone reaks, as thick replaces thin.

It roars upon me, blows beyond me, cast down in a gale.
Pounding, pummeling, hounding, rumbling, a beat I know so well.
Pouring streams, lightning, reams of gray just short of hail.
Hissing, pissing, caressing, kissing, the storm begins to wail.

On me now it coats my brow, my ears, my nose, my lips.
Pours down my neck, my nipples, back, rivulets on my hips.
Arms outstretched, palms wretched, reaching, nothing skipped.
Toes, thighs, calves, eyes, even the smooth pink tip.

Soaring now, some way, somehow, my soul seeps from within.
Oozing, healing, coating, feeling like a second skin.
It mixes with sweet heaven's rain and prompts a watery grin.
Ablution starts, and cares depart like lightning roasted sins.

Dancing, skipping, splashing, sipping, spinning in a daze.
Slipping, hopping, dripping, sopping, eyes in upward gaze.
Laughter mixes with the roar, for a time that seems like days.
I stand alone, cleansed to the bone, part of the dense gray haze.

Wind goes past, tiring at last, entertained by me no more.
Passing over the pine, the clover, to wash some distant shore.
I watch it leave, almost bereaved, but know it must go forth.
To cleanse the souls of everything that reaches for it's force.

There it goes, me in it's wake, fluttering in the breeze.
A drip, a splat, a pit, a pat, falling from the trees.
The treefrog screams, pavement steams, mudholes ripple free.
Sun comes out and warms the skin as I rise from my knees.

In the east it's golden now, I gaze way past this home.
The peacock calls out to his mate, mighty colors shown.
I gather up my thoughts and things, still soaking to the bone.
And feel my soul still on my skin as I set out alone.

rider

Rider fair on horse's back.
Slips past the sun to darkest wood.
'Midst leaf and stone they leave no track.
'Neath boughs where docile Haw once stood.
Breathing deep she closed her eyes.
Trusting him to carry on.
The broad warm beast between her thighs.
Eventually will take her home.
Limbs and branches comb her locks.
Lids shut tight she dares not look.
A clomping gate across the rocks.
A bullfrog's thrum along the brook.
A hum a buzz a rooster's call.
The rider's heart inhales them all.

mingling

She scatterd the opium weights on the table. Tiny brass tablets tarnished and cast with ancient symbols. He emitted a low growl and pondered how they had facilitated the hopeless and desparate as he fashioned them into the shape of a cross on the table. Picking one up, he licked it, wanting the taste as well as the sight and touch, then leaned across and pressed his lips to hers, letting the surreptitious mingle with the bliss of her kiss.

pale

Midnight, full moon. Air scrubbed clean by passing storms. Saturated lavender gray sky. A handfull of stars. The dog and I strike off down the trail in the crisp nightwind. We two, dogwood, beech and mayapple's pale umbrellas all bathed in blue moonglow. Our shadows dance and crackle on the forest floor as night becomes vapor and a brand new morning quietly creeps in.

gone

Lost in the wood.

In the deep green glow.

Gone for good.

They'll never know.

Final rest,

way off the trail.

It's for the best.

No one can tell.

I'll become the weed, the pine,

the winding vine.

Leaving no trace of me behind.

'Cept a ghostly scent for better noses.