Pdlyons's Explorationsthe ghost mother
disappeared
as if each son
spontaneous
generated
upon this dominated land
sticks of war
lures of porno
century
after century
yet still there are some
knowing they are the mothers sons
dare to say –
i love you
artist unknown/pdlyons photo
paris 2016/ pdlyons photo
dawn found us wishing we could do something
when that night began to end
so i told you
the only thing i ever prayed for
was that it wouldn’t
Today
at the counter
pastrami on rye
coffee black
just off the peripheral
this guy and woman at a table
he was going on & on
you know right away
a bunch of bullshit
rather loudly too
I had no interest in him
or what he was selling
but she had caught my eye
noticed her the minute i came in
by the time i finished my sandwich
she still hadn’t said a word
he of course hadn’t stopped
people just tried to piss him off
daughter 13 years old competing already
lack of parenting by all others
ad nauseam
I asked the waitress for a refill and the check
turned to get a better look at them
maybe she was speaking by just too soft for me to hear?
but no. she was just sitting there taking it all in.
no longer interested but rather sorry for her
turned to finish my coffee
wondered how long the rain would hold off
did the Yankees still have a chance for the pennant…
razor black
mirror porcelain
for your
rose bud
bird song mouth
I have made bouquets
gathering
shadow light
creatures wonderful
grotesques fortuitous
clear potable water
dark caves beneath a sunless world
secret hand fulls
tremors lolled by after glows
alone like ivory your room in blosom
rich solitudes of orchid
perfumed isolations
joys
with
or
without
love
i only make for you
Where can i always meet you?
where can we always be alone?
those open spaces
shadow lives
summers linger
all ghosts laugh
weeping is for beauty
sweet and savory.
all pain, in remedy
honey tipped restored.
where i always meet you
in those open spaces of the heart
photographer unknown
Within the pages of illusion,
Before the glass of no reflection,
The sensuous form of her adoration,
(White on blonde)
Rises to the occasion of the
Mysterious relation between,
The pale worship of a
Vanishing god and the blue
Whispers of her blood.
As fevered as silk in cedar,
Fanatical as dew dipped spider webs;
She’s come and gone.
Her absence heavy in the spicy
Dust of death, where her foot steps
Spell out the haunting word
Amen
1987
stronger
sleeker
smarter
better
wet ourselves at the sight of each other
someone i didn’t know had come to the front door
told me you were looking for me
on horses we used to own
i couldn’t believe my luck
went to meet you
took those trails we used to take
certain that’s the way you’d come
raced the river
edged the narrow ridge
ducked low hung branches
even found
the old red barn
the wild turkey barn
the shelter from the rain barn
surprised after all these years-
it hadn’t changed at all
https://www.yumpu.com/en/document/view/56836339/skullwise-cat
scorpion night
THE NIGHT MARES
Restless
In a still night
No moon softening
Sharp stars
No cloud drapery.
Against this midnight
The night mares move
Sharing colour with the darkness.
What cannot find them is found by them,
There are no ways secret:
Spiraling stars leave every sky familiar,
Foraging herds by trails of green weeds
Breach every underwater sanctuary.
The night mares
Sleep standing up;
Contain any stallion,
Give birth in the middle of any weather,
Can knock bones, eyes, or internal organs out of any creature.
Simply by their passing
Men have been sucked breathless.
The night mares
Know where dragons come from,
And who, mothered by seas and singing desert sands,
The twin birthed are.
In languages that the thunder knows,
They answer one another.
Navigating easily unbridled,
No boundary deludes them.
Yielding, the only response they know.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
this first appeared in print in Searches For Magic Lapwing Press Belfast
How Long My Unfitting Skin, The Night
she had come down from Gunnison
it had been a hard ride
thin air refusing to support her
old shoes needing to be thrown away as soon as possible
~
met for drinks at The Last Chance
she told me brief stories
life in the wilderness
ways of ghosts and proud flesh
we booked a room from the man who wore a star
~
make believe log cabin
steel spring mattress
Jim Beam on the bed side
we smoked silent shapes up at an invisible ceiling in the dark
I was happy to be there
thought she was too
~
but somewhere after moon light
she had gotten up
kneeling by the drifty window
to whatever she prayed
all i could make out was –
How long my own unfitting skin the night?
thank you clockwise cat!
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