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Almost Man

It’s the middle of her dreams

somewhere between heaven and bliss

the air is thick and dark with sleep

until… a voice barks in the cosmos.

She tosses a rock up above the stars

turns to the East seeking an early ray

but the eerie chords again vibrate through

the fibers of space shattering to oblivion.

The ramparts are thin around the sacred domain

of the realm she aims to keep in the vault

her chambers warm and quiet as purer earth

until the furry humanoid stabs her world with a shout.

Dog, man, ware-wolf, she recognizes the gait

pushing the pieces of the puzzle into chaos

arching a back as it rages to destroy her peace

it is the enemy soon to cry in agony for a stab.

Her criminal fantasy is awakened although she loves

the creature prisoner of a torturous crib

she must inflict a swift death to the executioner

of those lives now vaporized by his arrogant disdain.

Old Bishop

Eloquent as Jimmy Stewart in his best parts

the one they called Bishop spoke of

the romantics as if he had known them

by first name and quaintest habits.

Poor guy, he insisted upon standing

no matter, rain, sleet, or snow

and we rolled our eyes to the patriarch

as he shared his love for the great deceased.

His health faltering as he enjoyed

almost seventy years among us

he had lain on the steel table more than once

referring to the unexpected sounds the body made.

Jean-Jacques he said spoke of Emile

ideas of freedom, love, and passion

speaking French à la Stewart

interrupted by the sound of surgical scars.

Tall Girl

The joke must stop sooner or later

although you know on your sweet eighteenth

still tallest you will remain.

While one laughed loud and the other barely smiled

a mate spoke too softly to be heard next to

the one whose courage with words was unquestionable.

Smile checks came perhaps as often as hall controls

but I venture they will be remembered with

a keener sense of joy.

For now, you may not hear about your height

for some time to come but know that this

only brings you so much closer to the stars.

The Words I Need

I have looked at encyclopedias

in ancient Greek, Latin, and Sanskrit

in search of the potion of magic sounds

to speak the words that will echo into

each fiber of your eternal being.

I have scribed voluptuous lines onto

a chest still attempting to heave

in India ink dark as final thoughts

desperate tattoo artist screaming

for infinite colors of a lost rainbow.

I too clamored to the western winds

in hope that your soul may shiver

moved by a force you could not identify

trembling inside to the edge of an abyss

where you will find answers to all your fancies.

If only I could be a wizard and cast a spell

made of rose petals, a soft breeze, and pure dreams

so you would listen to those pleas I confess

and lay there gently to receive offerings

of a man who was created but to serve you.

They Sleep Now

My friends of a fortnight or two

awakened like cicadas

after 17 years of a slumber

under the stages of Broadway.

The lead and his wife united

every day under the jealous eye

of a girl betrayed by true love

a holy marriage rehearsed time and again.

Showgirls on an unlikely boardwalk

senators with most bizarre accomplishments

amidst a cabinet of gentle fools

confused by the alien ambassador.

They crossed over to the pages

of a book made in utter silliness

dressed of costumes for the part

hair slicked from lovely curls to the absence of depth.

Nights in this world they made them laugh

in the audience of greatest oddities

in character to an assault

with never a semblance of a smile.

Then it was time at last to close shop

so they made the best of a final scene

forgot characters for a minute instant

to laugh with spectators who joined in the game.

Now again, they sleep to never

awake on the small stage. The actors

walk their lives anew as if naught

ever was their part. They sleep at last.