lost in something close to
jerkin’ off while fantasizing
’bout it bein’ a good idea.
lifelike, waiting near windows
on sun-lines to approach
n’ gut the dark surrounding
lips & eyes & noses & ears
without saying a word.

it’s all nightmares & i still lose
sight when a star says daydreams
should take their place.
all of me is bare-bone
eyes colored as coffee spots;
a decent rationale for
waiting without a clue
why. nothing like getting
something for nothing
we already know
somethin’ is nothin’.

winter-time dead trees
make better deals without
the sun. beautifully
incandescent from my
balcony, thrown shadows get
dragged across asphalt
as a planet rotates underfoot.
gasps of empty dark take off for
somewhere else where-
ever light touches down.

when the sun’s up everything
will seem better; even now,
darkness desperate to
hold fast has to be pried off
the grass &
the curb &
the cars & the people
& me.


It was not a great end of the year, and a total shit of a first night. The next 364 will just have to get better, by hook or by crook. Dedicated to anyone else ditched on New Years Eve. (I’m starting to understand why poets who don’t make a mistress of poetry usually go to bed unfulfilled or crazy.) Shit, I even left my fingernails long. At least it was warm. And soon, it will be sun-up. That always seems to help, even when it just lets you get a better look at the damage done.

3 Responses to “incandescent…”

  1. I have read a number of your poems and now my mind is bleeding because no matter how much I squeeze it I can’t totally comprehend your profound poems. You’re such a great poet — I can’t reach your mind.

    Now I want science to study the true poets’ brain 🙂

    Have a magical day! 🙂

    • Well, as long as the blood is coming out of your ears and not your nose, things will be OK. You are far too kind with your comments, they are most appreciated, as is taking your time to read through my occasionally incoherent rantings & poetry. Enjoyed your page as well,


      • ahaha! Now I don’t have to worry with the blood on my ears. Thank you — I’m filled with gratefulness for your kindness and understanding.

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