A Collective Horizon

A man urinates
behind the sanctuary of foliage.
Waves rollicking onward, incandescent
sparkle in its million dollar smile.
Distant motor thrum
echoing into the quiet lapping,
nonchalant heartbeat steadily gurgling.
Horizon’s teeth snarling,
distant jungle peaks belie
Time’s stolen serenity.

A man fishes,
coaxing the sea for its hapless children.
A wayward slaughter,
cat & mouse struggle of the enigmatic maw.
Wind lulls as if a dream,
quiet seconds in the cacophony world.
True majesty of such moments
will too soon fall into the muck and whirl.
What a beautifully wasted retrospect,
a silent confessional filed
to “Rain check”...

...stolen moments of clarity

Watch the synchronized avian cylinder
gyrate majestically over
ephemeral cerulean
as elderly folks enjoy the scenery,
hands unclasped, a weathered familiarity—
treading along the twilight track,
Gaea offers solace oft overlooked,
a parting tableau.

A man crabs,
pacing cantankerously:
mother-hen craning
testing tautness
seeking the thrill of the pull.
What unsuspecting prize
lies within his submerged prison?

A man
plagued with gout
waddles along:
boisterous blue bucket in tow,
wilting pole weeping morosely.
Bulge kisses rails,
conforms and squeezes
holding hopes of greener days.

Life’s multiformity walks here:
all restless husks gazing outward
pursuing what became lost.

Hurricane Season

Mass Hysteria!
Garbed in flashlights,
thousand-watt generators----
weathering the apocalyptic weather.

EYE is growing bigger
wider, churning furiously;
irate Sauron over the seas
blustering madly towards rocky infinity.

Shutter up the house,
a willing entombment.
Flee! Flee!
The hearth’s turned toxic—
foundation fit to collapse.

Categories are jumping---
3 to 4 to 5.
What roll of the die
shall decide fate?
Closer, Closer
drawn by fear's magnetism.

Commonplace name
belies the harbinger of destruction.
Breeding rapidly off stricken tongues---
Whispered, Whispered
the cowled boogeyman
hides behind cerulean horizon.

Screens obsessed with swirls;
white fluffy masses on candy-striped paths---
what lucky dots get the flashing crimson?

Constrained fear in weatherman eyes,
gambling gods on high---
what an unpredictable nature, Mother,
your hapless children scurry
like shattered ant dunes.

Succeeded to ghost-towns:
boarded up, evacuated, bunker stock-piled.
Waiting, Waiting
for blackening sky,
final judgment is nigh.

Baited, Baited
Breath catches and reels,
eyes glued, lists checked,
weatherman voice erupts tremulous:
“ It Veered Away ”

Sobriquets

Kerouac,
you quit on me—
let the bottle win,
bled out from the belly.

What happened to Ti Jean:
lost in the city,
in the ship’s bowels
brewing madness poetry?

Jack,
when did the motor of thirst
drive you into
the Duluoz dust of myth?
Legend became life,
a deceased sonic discord:
Bixby Canyon nightmares
stealing sanity from spontaneity.

Memory Babe,
how did you forget the golden rule
— never stop—
sacred scripture
of automotive heart.

If only you left behind
the sweet wine;
rewound to reckless thighs,
joual goodbyes—
the Paradise mask
that knew no bounds.