windswept without a plan

possible deaths:

rotating engines of a 747.
not to mention the windsheild
of a Boeing jet.
stomaches of greater birds.
sharp beaks of lesser birds.
the flying v in formation
without room for one more.
singed wings from
flying too close to the sun.
the lull of birthing waters
before a squall.
man's tatooed hands.
migratory neglect.
Starvation.

From the Dali series;

The Disintegration of Matter

The persistence of memory
Splitting
across conflicting schools of thought –

Suspended over the exterior world,
I am
immersed in the interior
landscape of the mind.

The uncertainty principle of
the exterior world
criss-crosses against
my father Freud
to a point where
all I can see is
a wedding dress
and broken glass.

The barren landscape
points in no other direction but
towards nuclear physics
and the annihilation of
Hiroshima.

To My Stillborn Love:

Denouncing Picasso
means nothing
when racked by the
binge and purge disease.

You are careless.
Incomplete.
Consumed by ADD.

cabaret

the boy who loves mud
found himself a girl.

so precise in rain spray,
in the art of biting remarks,
the boy who loves mud
slow dances in the ambient light
of the late night cabaret,
then leaves for a quick word,
a hug from a transient friend.

his girl closes her eyes,
continues the sway of her hips,
until he returns to fill the space he left.

the boy who loves mud
found himself a girl.

the breakup

then

flaming red says "I like your skirt."

space divide riftspan silence blackest depths smile strained eyes framed red settle moments long unspoken word echos between lies told see streaming lips promise broken to live chaos switch turn settle to dust i settled for more or less? flames burn defiant she turns beyond chaos

and

deepset gray calls: "Thanks."