Hello Ascuncion

Paved road doormongers,
saturated war balloons,
helium coated interior,
lacquer diving chute
ocean craving manta bath
slipstream nose-full-of grizzly algae.

That was yesterday.

Haley's comet
burning engine oil
crashland bandstanding grand handle
clumpets of windpipes playing on the lunar
Claire of the seven gables stares squarely into the sarlac
seatac airport take off staged one-upmanship russian bolo-ties
strip mall shoe stall on the upper east side of mehdipatnam

That was tomorrow.

Filled bric-a-brac snacking on whatever the hands may be laid upon
tapping the juices of roots for islands of civilization beneath the forest
neat rows of laid lines, crude jute stems protruding in southbound alleys
rallies for the summer and the near solstice
parleys with my god and eyes met in thine
clear blue breeze open seas
ship sailed dovetailed peace mercedes benz bender on the open sore day celebrate
my celibate trait sating on the open gates of perception
temptress nest in the security of the warm tree lined avenue embrace
trace my lineage back to grazers and phased lasers
pulsing in starlit nights
to that beginning the core monotheism.

New Day smell

The water drips onto the road,
flows down the sides,
swirls for a second around the drain, and sweeps down into the dark.
The trees sway in the moist breeze,
shaded gray backdrop to wet green.
My mind drips in slow beats down into the melancholic haze at the back of my throat,
my stomach churns in uncomfortable uncertainty.
The sweetness of having your nerve endings laid bare,
as the cold air shakes and stirs you
pushes and pulls you,
carries you through thoughts, memories,
drags you down into that dark covered pool in the caverns.
you sit silently at the edge dodging conviction, sarcasm, objectivity
seeing the world raw
tasting the sad liqueurs with relish, and contentment.
the creeper that embraces the damp walls,
the moss that clings,
and you lay down to stare into the water.
The surface disturbed in ripples.

Pegasus is high

Flightless horse syndrome early on.
Greek gods and goddesses harrumphing outside the stables.
No wing-viagra for the hippo-drome.
Silently noshing, snatching and grabbing
hay from the next door stall,
Pegasus considers his moves.
Start a small jazz club in Valhalla,
A pogo-plant in Walla-Walla
or a crazy glue company in upper Sasperilla.
In the end he ups, walks into the Mediterranean sunshine,
testicle-hooves Zeus
and takes up arms against a sea of troubles
by Bipedalizing his way out to the upper isles.

The quest for purpose:
the warm seabreeze aside
he doesn't fancy a sedentary lifestyle:
crane-watching, hillbilly pebbling,
sticker-wearing have lost their charm for lonely Pegasus.
He steals a weary side-kick
and a dromedary too slow
and sets off on journeys unknown.
unknown for here ends the tale.

Your word v. mine

Hand in hand we walk the banks of mistrust,
skirting around meaning, pausing and stuttering behind ulteriors,
The oily black lake of cynicism slurps in the background,
we grind our teeth in mock civility,
gnashing all the fears of us, and our ancestors, and our sisters in Boise,
and our friends from over the edge,
they toil in our inner realities, sinking us , steeping us in that darkness,.
I taste the metallic twang of anger and step back to question why,
you start to speak but think better of telling the truth,
no, we must play this dance of veiled meaning.
This is all we have left.
From unflinching duty of protection, to guarded caution, through the fogs of paranoia, with its red blinking lights,
and the shadows over your shoulder, talking to and amongst themselves,
to unhinged fear, and poison rampant. The feedback loop that eats its own tail.
Serpent across seattle.
I have to run for the hills. You'll know why when you smell the green of the grass.