moon on the wane

Sophia swings from side to side
in a round white hoop on a chain.
Talons pull then propel her ride.
She controls the moon on the wane.

Colorful wings that never fly
spread out and in swinging flight feign.
Back and forth—caged up with no sky,
She swings in her moon on the wane.

Sophia’s kin on pirates ride
and fly to relieve the mundane.
A pirate’s life she’ll not abide—
no night flight through moons on the wane.

We met Sophia at Petco
to my belch, she belched a refrain.
She would not survive if let go.
She’s stuck with her moon on the wane.

She winds that swing up like a towel
her claw hands maneuver its chain.
She cackles and shrieks from her dowel
as she spins that moon on the wane.

his taciturn madness

Solitude breeds inhibition.
The hermit becomes comatose.
He can’t rise up to fruition,
while his taciturn madness grows.

Nations change names while he hides there.
The mighty Missouri still flows.
The hermit hums with no despair,
while his taciturn madness grows.

It happens as he hums one day,
so the queer hermit's story goes.
With clarity, he feels okay,
while his taciturn madness grows.

blue-mooned sky

for Thyra

Where do you go for an answer?
What words do you eat when you cry?
Soothe your travails through a dance, girl.
Twirl deep beneath a blue-mooned sky.

Eternities pass in instants.
Enlighten the eve that is nigh.
Conjure a cosmic convergence.
Twirl deep beneath a blue-mooned sky.

Answers emerge when the search ends.
They gleam in the quiet mind’s eye.
Inhale the moments thought transcends.
Twirl deep beneath a blue-mooned sky.

Mr. Frank

Mr. Frank it’s time to travel
far away from earthly trappings.
Once set free, life will unravel,
in tapestries of angel wings.

Mr. Frank your spirit glistens
Existence is a fragile thing.
Human beings seldom listen
when rain falls on an angel’s wing.

You heard every whispered story
then made the tellers feel like kings.
You uncovered hidden glory
within the folds of angel wings.

Your energy will dissipate
and all will be remembering.
We left you at the graveyard gate
beneath a marble angel’s wing.

Burn

Fetch your obstreperous children
from the hands of Prisoner Joe.
He takes them to bed and eats them
and forever makes dark your soul.

Fetch them and send him to ashes.
Tie him tight to the staircase pole.
Laugh when the flames lick his lashes
then forever make dark your soul.

From This into That

January runs slow and smooth,
February with choc’ late grooves,
March and April bring blooms that soothe,
From this into that our life moves.

May sings songs of creation
The sun rises early in Junes,
July and August vacation.
From this into that our life moves.

September mulches October,
November holds big harvest moons,
December’s deep snows can sober,
From this into that our life moves.