A Constant Season

towering above Midwestern prairies
and millions of acres of soybeans 
wheat and corn
fierce winds collide
and compress 
with city heat
bus fumes
and bodies
to paint a light 
sweaty sheen 
on the flesh 
of sun worshippers
vagrants and dusty children.

come with me.
and listen 
to the setting sun.
feel the current charge 
the evening
sparking like neon lights
along the avenue.

hold onto me
and we will fly high above
glass and steel
and the crumbling masonry
of aged tenement halls
whose residents sag 
like the flag outside the VFW.

night will fall
but only to those on 
the circumference of the city
where farms fall 
into the familiar lull
of the glow of televisions 
and unspoken conversations
marked more by body language
than consonants and vowels.

stay with me
through the hours
as the casino blares its life
with its chorus of calls and cards.

beneath bright arches 
along the interstate
burgers and fries
are bagged and sold to travellers
and hungry third shifters.

engines hum near the depot
awaiting early morning commuters
and city busses ready for their
daily routine.
bread is baked
eggs are fried
and sleep washed from eyes
as a new day blushes in the east.

our journey must end
but the sequence of days
is eternal.

calendar pages change
but nothing of the streets ever change.

even fashions pendulum and trend
but the burn and freeze of the city
is a constant season.

The Taste of Coconut Oil

The Taste of Coconut Oil

On the other side of silence
Are sandy reaches 
Of timeless oceans
Crested with curling white sprays
Of salty foam.

Above, gulls cry their plea
For food and bread crusts
Left by careless sunbathers.

Far down the strand 
Carried by a briny sea breeze
Roll broken verses
Of music from some small radio.

I can still taste the coconut oil
On your warm skin
And see afternoon's hazy rays of light
Scattering across your sleepy eyes.

Far behind our sandy nest
The sigh of tires come
From the beach road
And children's laughter follow
As though chasing 
The transit of holiday families.

In my lengthening years
I have abandoned things
Once thought necessary...
Telephone numbers
Account pass words
Even names of childhood friends.

But as time uncoils
The memory of you
In your yellow bathing suit
Hair swept across your face 
In the sultry July breeze
And your fingernails gently raking
My chest communicate 
Words unspoken
Of the seas and shores
Upon which we will join
When the sun and the sea collide
Decades hence.

THUNDER

THUNDER is my beckoning call

like a TRUMPET rousing me to attention

like CANNON FIRE tearing holes in the sky

like ANGELS' SONGS lifting my heart!

THUNDER rolls from mountain top to valleys

like the EARTH SHAKING the fleas from her back

like mighty GEYSERS casting its steam to the heavens

like a godly PREACHER shouting the kingdom's amen!

THUNDER is the thrust and parry of mortal challenge

like robed CHOIRS blasting ears and shaking souls

like powerful TREADS crushing rock and soil

like FLASHING ORDNANCE dealing death and destruction.

THUNDER harbors in my heart

like iron clad VESSELS

like DAUNTING DESTROYERS

and sometimes like a child's PAPER BOAT.

oh, THUNDER......

SPEAK, LAUGH

SING, RATTLE

and INSPIRE me

with your awesome 

COMBUSTING LIFE!

Scattered

Long ago I scattered
to the dusty corners
of the Earth
all the debris you left.

over there I threw the memories
of the softness of your touch
and the lightening
of your fingers.

beneath powerful ocean tides
I secured weights to your kisses
that they might never rise
to sweeten Earth's sands into sugar.

deep inside mighty ancient stones
of the Sangre De Christos
I buried the secret memories
of the love we made.

high above thin altitudes
of Arizona skies
I diluted every promise
we made to one another.

into the ancient ice of Antarctica
I buried your tender words
frozen and forgotten
that they have no draw upon me.

within the caldrons of earth's
twisting and surging iron core
I turned to ash every unsecured hope
of seeing you again.

but I did not understand
that nothing created ever
fully goes away.
when I awoke this morning...

...all the trash I took out last night
lay scattered across my heart once again.

As if you were Seagrass

As if you were Seagrass 

I will sit you
Astride my pony
Make you feel her 
Mighty shoulders working
Mane wind blown
Nostrils flaring
In morning's virgin rays

Her steamy breath flowing back
With the early chill.

Push your boots deep 
Into the stirrups.

Wrap the reins 
About your right hand.

Stand tall in the saddle
Your left hand in a balled fist
Settled into your hip.

Find her rhythm 
Her cadence  
And allow your body
~~as if you were seagrass~~
To undulate with 
The song of her hooves
Upon the sod's dewy sheen. 

Ride!

Ride her
Until every pursuing memory

Stream behind her tread...
Until the joy of the saddle
And the chime of your spurs

Join with the wind in your hair

The beauty of your pony

And the thrill of your fresh

New morning! 

to walk like a man

she shucked my boots like corn
tossing each into a dark corner
then commenced what I could not expect.
to my embarrassment 
she attended my severely worn feet
ignoring their reviling condition 
having negotiated many wide and deep hills
travelling valleys 
transversing streams and rivers
to arrive home
following years of war
just short of daybreak.

say what you may 
concerning the intimate parts
of the body of a man
I say they are the feet.
they are that fragility
that determine the walk 
of a man
and to them she concentrated
her full attention
while I tightly closed my eyes
to forbid I burn into
everlasting memory 
the images of this woman
my darling girl
rubbing away so many miles 
of Indian trails
wagon paths
and deer traces
across painful journeys 
to our place of reunion.

hearing naught
save her warm breathing
I eventually fell asleep
waking after full dark
to a single candle's glow.
I found she had bundled
my blistered feet
in a warm wrap
then joined me in sleep
at my side.

I am now an old man
marred by the indignities
of advanced age.
but i fondly recall
the ministry
my dear wife proffered  
by loving me 
from the ground up.

say what you may
concerning the joining together 
of a man and a maid
i insist the most tender affection 
ever i received
was the early morn
i returned following years 
of devastating combat
to be restored
by my darling girl
from toes
to heels
from instep to arch
by the anointing of her tears
and the gentleness of her hands
that i might once again
walk like a man.

 

reasons

there are reasons fireflies sleep
in the morning
while butterflies sleep
at night.
and there are reasons
lovers love best 
in fire light
and fighters fight best
in the light.

there are reasons i keep quiet
when with you
while i talk best 
when alone.
and there are reasons
i never sing in darkness
and reasons my soul's construct
is stone.

there are reasons i leave
no footprints 
yet shout down canyons
so wild.
and there are reasons
i strive for achievement
and reasons i grow gentle
my child.

there are reasons i do not gaze
into campfires
but open my eyes
to the stars.
and there are reasons
i study
the cosmos
but shudder at venus and mars. 

there are reasons i fascinate
over road maps
yet trust no
tale of amazing daring-do.
and there's one reason
i forsake every lover
but return in the moon glow
to you.

inevitability

i feel the engine within me
thrumming 
but missing a sporadic beat.
just enough to remind me
it will eventually seize
in an oily
steamy surprise
of end time chaos.

i will grab my chest
or fall face-down
into my oatmeal.
or they may find me 
in the bathroom
splayed across the 
checkered tiles
like a surrendered
chessboard king. 

the clock is running
and i'd best 
get down the highway
before it inevitably stops
and i can't squeeze in my
las

Update

Hi, Folks....I've been in and out of the hospital. A couple of transfusions helped to stabilize me; make me feel better. I'm home now. Missed three weeks of work, and still feel way too weak. Anyway, I've been too out of it to write. Hopefully, I will soon be back to it. In the meantime, think a few good thoughts. If you pray, I'd be happy to be lifted to God. It's been a hard time. Surely good times will return!

~ James

holy light

lying in bed
at the first flaring
of the sun
my addled mind marveled
at the graceful arch
of her hip
gently sloped
as though it were
the geography of tiny explorers
hoping to make a colony
of lovers of her terrain.

the first rays
set afire her rising hip
and dazzled
the miniature vagabonds
making them think surely
gods dwelt here.

i touched her softly
and she awoke.

but how do you tell a goddess
her terrain
has been usurped
by those of lesser caste
content to dwell upon
the sensuality of slope
bathed in holy light?