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The Fat Cat
Posts: 8419
Joined: Tue Dec 18, 2001 12:01 am
Tag line: Do no harm
Location: Novato, CA


Post by heinzs » Sun Nov 30, 2014 1:00 pm



Tongue in tenacious
search, sans compass or direction
slides, flicks, tenderly
turns into noon's titillation, wet

silk and around
mouthed, teased, urgency
more than proliferates. Praise the lick,
moan, suave tickle
parked spot found,
our temporary wild abode.


last night, a full moon
cast her white glances around
crickets were voiceless


how like your strong hands -
overtaken by chill winds
row to my harbor


moonlight in the mirror
wraps around our limbs like silk
night flowers open


or how I spent 6 days Manhattan

determined faces
streets crammed with noise and taxis
a leaf slowly drifts

bridges touch the sky
stores display Jimmy Choo shoes
I'm in paradise

Manhattan tourists -
my sister only has eyes
for brawny firemen

sweating in long lines -
warned, be enthusiastic
or incur his wrath

(note: waiting for entrance to the David Letterman Show)

gorging on such art
I ask at the info desk
may I move in here?

(note: NY Metropolitan Museum of Art)

nephew's idea -
Yankees vs White Sox game
fan jumps into net

lost in Tribecca
or maybe Soho, who cares?
corned beef sandwiches!

medieval building
white unicorn in flowers
dances on the wall

(note: the Cloisters)

missing Chicago
breezy air, lakeshore beaches
trashcans in alleys

iamb what iamb
06 Sep 2005 12:15:pm
I sweat, I curse, it's time to master stress.
Enunciate in metered measure, yes,
appears to be a pleasure, so they claim.
It feels as if my feet are marching stuck
in clay, the left leg weaker than the right.
Dusty and clunky, anapest and trochee
Where is the scat song, the jazzy steps
that slid free verse from my pen?
To learn, to scan - sigh
begin again, to count the stresses on my digits.

On the Verge of Death, Wishing to have been Martha Stewart

Whenever I fly
and if turbulence appears
I can't stop thoughts
that sidle into my brain.
It's lame, I know, but still,
there it is, they grin and say,
this plane is going to crash
and soon, you will die.
I feel terror, then, and sad,
missing everyone.
I replay life in all
it's moments of joy and happiness.
Then, it manifests -
The horror!
I obsess -
(ah, regrets)
Before I left, I wish
I cleaned abode's disorder
and left a perfect house,
right down to perfectly
matched pillows for the couch
wishing we had re-painted walls
and every piece of paper,
bills and receipts were
properly filed, boxed,
and stacked in roll-out
cabinets instead of
scattered on the desk.
And why oh, why
didn't I dust before I left?
Thank goodness, air smooths
out it's bumpy path,
plane rights itself
and in a moment
I'm perusing news
waiting for the beverage cart
to bring an ice cold Pepsi.
And as for Martha Stewart, well, good riddance.


Vibrancies flash multitudinous color
world of blur unzips space
in nodding trumpets.
Business of insects
and beavers halt.
Leaves awake to quake
& grip the flummoxed air.
Bright scintilla; sumptuous
in shimmered dexterity,
spins time in milliseconds.

On the occasion of the first spring mowing of the lawn

overcome by those senses
again, it's true I do indulge
in scented candles that
waft lavender, lilac plethoras
and memories of homegrown
rhubarb-strawerry pie or I buy
provencal red wines that linger
in lingual recessed bliss
or strokes of brilliant yellow
brushed by my finger, grasping
delicately a sunflower's brash
flame statement, beheld by my eye

as just
this morning you returned
from the front yard, screen door creaking
open, muscled arms
sleekly sweaty
dotted in grassy bits
greenly scented
in largesse of spring, this lovely growing spring
blue glance to mine
and arm to back, bending, lip to seeking lip,
old enclosed back porch and
eased on down to the boards-
on the occasion of the first spring mowing of the lawn.

My Sweet Poseidon

Sweet poseidon
for now lay down the book, papers
place intellect in abeyance, your
unseen world of life altering quest
for time is whisking by.
Let me possess your lips, my
sweet old god, mouth, arms
and triton; ease your power over stormy eyes
I demand, impetuous and washed in clamor of love
like the relentless sea, tide's surging crest.
Breathe in wavy salt air, dwell in rapture of the deep.
Roar and roar with ocean's crash, forget all facts but
this ---- love embraces, it stuns far stars and sun.
Flapping cries soar to escalate fire's sensual
core o soul of water, some faint
blush of witness together graced.
Glimpse of unknown doors that open and close;
like the distant shush of whispering shells.

Almost Lost

Like a child again
almost lost,
scenes reverse as my mother squints
with one eye, searching
for the elusive single
vision, my face.
"I would like to go home"
as her eyes meet mine
slipping slowly off
the security of the seat
socks falling off her feet.
It's best to shush now
catch a sense of better
what's possible now; hard work
patience, maybe a miracle, ignoring the
malfeseance of an embolus that coasted
and carreened to a stop
in her brain stem's smallest arteriole.
Incidental Accidental
cause and effect
I help her sip a little cool water
and it slides crookedly
out the left corner,
a weakness that leads us
to link hands in truth and terror.

A Small Town Called Beltan

I will live, bear witness -
I would carry grief for you.
This will not lighten
your load or pain, I can offer
only this -
you are lost in
bleak darkness, in suffering.
The whole world watches, breaking hearts
dank dirt hitting
plastic bodies, children.
Cocooned butterflies,
brilliant colors run to crimson tears
answers absent, arms curl to grasp
silent air, burdens shouldered
flowers droop and fade.

Lost o lost.
I light a candle for the unknown to find a way.

last thought (Francesca Woodman)

Life as a series
of glances;
continual attempted captures,
arrested moments
to pick over or savor.

As she floated
through the air,
was her last thought
of a final interaction not
caught with the intangilble
aerial atom or an array
of love and wings
sprouting from her family and friends.

her memories carry on.
An' it harm none, do what ye will. Blessed Be.
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