like silk

hot soft the water runs in mist,
the mirrors folded in a cloud;
as towel-bedraped and lensless, i,
still cut and scraped from law and crowd,

come in. and there one precious is –
a music like a new perfume,
a crystal glass filled up with years,
a still-that bride for yet-my groom —

like knives the day,
like silk the night;
like midnight storms
and candlelight –

as lost as we,
through entropy,
we cross a bridge
of silken ecstasy

how comes the passing eidolon
to hands that on her back must play?
what pulls the dusk into the night
of after stars and tear away?

for open eyes will close in joy
and feelings follow feeling,
as meanings live in what is meant
and sense is made for reeling –

like knives the day,
like silk the night;
like midnight storms
and candlelight –

as lost as we,
through entropy,
we cross a bridge
of silken ecstasy

Sharp Things

(For those who might not know – the photo is of an old game called “Jacks”, and those things really hurt to step on in your bare feet. – Owen)

(For those who might not know – the photo is of an old game called “Jacks”, and those things really hurt to step on in your bare feet. – Owen)

I know there’re sharp things in this world;
I have feet, knees and elbows
That seem to find them, each and every day —

Right now, I’m on painkillers for
A back that’s really messed up
From seizures, and from how damned much I weigh.

And so, to put this out of mind,
I write about my neighbors,
My blog-pals, relatives, and strangers, too —

I know there’re sharp things in this world,
For always, I will find them:
And I can guess
That it’s the same
For you

Mugged By Love

Lonely Street

It picks you up and throws you down
It kicks your can all over town
It likes to make you think it’s gone
Then waylay you on your front lawn

It waits in alleys patiently
To jump out unexpectedly
And slap you with its velvet glove
Yes, you, sir – have been mugged by love