All Hallow's Host

All souls race

slick black

rain leaved,

pavement toward

the door

I leave open.

Alone they find

dust piled

in corners

that tell

tall tales

of another haunt.

The sun’s been

gone now

for hours,

night’s nearly

grasped the

last of it.

I wait standing

to feel

their warmth

come ‘round

in circles

to finally settle.

Ever Green

Out of the wood

bucks exploded

flying across

the ancient path

that guided me

with seashells,

the pilgrim’s mark,

and Roman ruins.

Sweaty beasts

agily leaping

into the pine

their rush

spreading needles

across the path

drawing scent

out.

Breathful they

still the air

quiet captive.

Pine sweat.

Pine scent.

Pine sweet.

Our shoes

knock concrete

my love always

looking to

buy trinquets

to soothe

time not spent

on same road.

Frasier fir wax

lit, reminiscent

of the ever

green of Spain

timeless beat

of a tramp

toward sacred.

Like the beast

he will come

and go so fast

leaving  me

to conjure

his stillness.

Some Sister She

He married  his sister.

Happily ever for now.

She’s just   moved up   

from his past to    live,

hers is where she  left

it decades ago    when

she was just a       girl.

I have read.    Siblings

are true life    partners   

that connect us      our

collective     memories

 young innocent naive

untethered to    worlds

of   required  attention.

Some sister        she is

from a block he  knew

lost too    forked roads

boomeranged          to

life before      age hurt

oh, incestuous      rapt.

playpark of   standstill.

Pink Slip

He buys a round

of pink slips.

Worry not,

it won’t come

to you but

it will find

a throat

that will have

to chug it down.

First round’s on

he who hasn’t

a care in the world

bulldozing

knocking down

what’s real

to find what

he thinks is lost

in the past.

He’s a sad man

with a clown jig.

I cannot bear

witness.

I hold it.

I’m not pink

slipped through

the cracks.

Is it enough

for the sad man

to not know.

His is a slip

I don't envy.

Point of View

In slow seconds

of the day

I wander

to before.

But it does

no good

to look

back there.

I am third

person in

the fading

light.

It’s best

to come back

to where I

is found.

The Worm

My finger snakes across the table

to demonstrate the path

that a dissecting tool would take

to split the skin of a worm.

Its smooth, taut shape

I will slice and pin back,

careful not to cut too deeply

severing its ribless body in half.

Lowly invertebrate:

fish bait - earth composter

the all’s clear after rains -

neither sexed – both sexed

opened for discovery,

guts revealing aortic arches:

five loops carrying blood

to its five beating hearts.

Five hearts, four more

than human, to torment

and devour the one

so easily insinuated into.

My finger remembers

the smooth, sinuous skin 

that covers his cheek.

How did he work his way  

in and not fertilize?

Smoke In My Eyes

Cornea burn.

Corps burning.

Heart burnt.

The visor

not down

lets sun blaze

enzymes

that protect

blue eyes.

White  vision 

blind drive home.

Western-fried,

my core smolders:

smoke   no   flame.