Cat Wake Up

Meow, meow, the small cat lit,
Her gaze ablaze like titian tides
When sanguine sun beyond them sets;
The light reflected in her eyes
Issues forth with heavy thought
And not with dull or graymade hue
But like some dream she long had sought
Her look, absorbed, now transmits through.
What children dance inside that light,
That countenance so tender made?
What object of such keen-dream sight
Might pierce her muddled fog, displayed?

A bit of seafood from the deep
Recesses of uneasy sleep.
What the Princess Whispered


her green eyes gazing after me
she, swallowed in that other maw by then

I back away, the jaws of life in hand
her black hair chasing after me


the blue twilight strewn with twisted metal
parkway shoulder blades of grass

topped with dewdrops clover spades and petals
dusted bright with broken glass


her smiling plea haunts it still

Superuomo


skylights night slide
by through smog below and fog shrouded glow clouds
of bright yellow, streaming like stop time taxicabs between
bricklike buildingtops, offering a moon’s
wan reflection before their keepers’ sleeping
visages. false idols, for all of them,
I’m sure. solipsism destroys
altruism in its self worship, and warships,
and religion for that matter. this city was almost never
a war zone. still the spindles
would gleam frighteningly. it’s funny,
selflessness. somnambulistic in the higher. skylights
go by and go out;
lights turn to dust and stars.
Aqualung


In every face, many:
dark abets reflection and,

fight as they may, the glass
insists. Passing

through a station
forsaken, petals wilt. Eyes avert, golden

dewed for the jaundice, seeing
nonsight. Urine for the nostrils. Feral

taste. Choler
for the wastrels.
September


I went
to talk to my X
girlfriend and told her
we need to commune
and smoke like we used to
and be and she said
patience
and wisdom
and know when your spirit
has spoken itself
or its smoke.
I went into

our corner
and we said what we could
with our privacy. Then we came
together
outside into
the September sunlight.