ROCK
I am not
that what you'd be
or need from me to be
simply cracked shell intact
handled without care or cause
hard black Hell yolks me 'til spent
I combine to be the whole of my waste
hiding myself behind palmed enchanted hands
gales of mystic chill that incise through fate's hope
simply dreaming other manners to use that which is not
mere manipulation of substance unknown 'til now
I would divine to see future from a riven past
to come before the hen of golden promise
risen upon that fountain we may call
as time calls for me to want to be
can I find a reply so perfect
defying reasoned to lie
shapeless words
ovum gorge
back to
ROCK








Against a wall of pastel brown
wearing tanned second skin
legs uncaressed
unmedicated ease
and below the gaze of daisies
so golden
so white
ambidextrous spooning of a Caesar salad into an expectant mouth
strains of Middle-Eastern rock in the warm lunch air
and my pen to the page
dirty plates of my own feast adorning my table/desk.
Far away a voice nudges "Here. Now"
the chilled water drowning lemon slices
entombed beneath the ice
though safe
away from invasive fingers and complete disdain
away from them in their spotlights that seemed to never dim
chewing nicotine dismissal like cheap lives
like early morning caffeine fixes
like the simple shuffle of facts.

She reclines high on a stool
high on the attention
high
and above my mighty
fingering invisible dollars, beckoning forth.

Further back into the wall
reflections
in light
to shade
light, shade
light, shade
light, shade
just a shade of light.