Mynd's Letter (formerly Imagination Letter) draft #2

In mynd's eye there's this letter I mean to send:
heaven forfeits whoever it forbids
but writing's not a sin
and this blood letter written
iron rich as the rise of society
and with the strength of metal and the strength of death.

We change the rules and dress up the name
but everything's still the same
and society when maimed or made lame
wrings capital paragraphs to thunderous applause
if we all clap then no one is to blame

In unison they swing their canes
dapper dressed they walk down one ways
while all this time our lives wind up not as a time-piece
reckoned with a heart wind terrible to behold,
but as the wisps of wind that soft
dance across your face on a hot day.

What living is worth

Not one heard
the hammer click back.
Not one could see that
with the barrel pointed,
it ran the length of her hairline;
barrel rammed hard into the soft spot just behind her ear.

Maybe she closed her eyes
and prayed with imaginary hands
(hers were bound behind her back).
Maybe she prayed to her God.
Maybe she thought of home
and said, “Mother, I love you,”
eyes closed to the pull of the trigger.


A sack arrived two days earlier
as iron plumes rose from black rivers
and burned out buildings.
She was told, “This is the best we can do, please eat.”
Rancid meat. Maggots and worms.
This is the best we can do, please eat.
But without firewood a fire could not burn
and without food she could not eat.

The sack that arrived two days earlier
was stamped USDA approved
and delivered.
This is the best we can do, please eat.
Except in her country
deliveries come too late.

Almost Sunset

I don’t suppose
if I asked you would go;
wanted only to watch
the sun set.

The purple hue,
the parade of clouds
and you
so clear, crisp and clean;
an apple
and as delicious.

Imagination Letter (from Letters rhyming exercise) draft #1

In my imagination there's a letter I have reason to send
writing is not a sin
heaven forfeits what it does not let in;
letter written in blood if I were anemic I'd been dead long since.

When we change the rules or dress up the name
everything's still the same:
society when maimed or made lame
no one and everyone is to blame

In unison they swing their canes
dapper dressed they walk down one ways
all the while our lives wind up
not as literal time-pieces reckoned by a heart wind terrible to behold,
but as the wisps of wind that soft-dance across your face on a hot day.

Dream Beetle (draft #4)

I sit and sink into the dry turf of a hillside's fair chalky meadow
clouds mixed crimson magenta
months of ash masked sunsets the world over.
My mind sees beetles burrowing through the dung of my dreams
metallic rose black its carapace,
mandibles grinding rock to dust
palpi feeling for food,
digesting stone-dust their waste back-filling tunnels
like analid these anthropods mix like no sex does.

I now know as no sense can tell:
the sun enriches my skin with vitamin D
my eyeballs turn back toward my brain
my eyelids flutter as a butterfly
and like Chuang-Tzu ages ago
beauty amazes confounds confuses amuses;
leaves ever after an awe of the unknown.

Dream beetle; draft #3

And I sit on dry turf
sinking into the hillside's fair chalky meadow
dry summer day clouds
mixed crimson magenta and for months ash masked sunsets the world over.
My minds eye sees beetles burrowing through the dung of my dreams
metallic rose and black carapace
mandibles grind rock to dust
palpi feel for food and digest
stone-dust their waste back-filling tunnels
like analid these anthropods mix like no sex does.

I now know as no sense can tell:
sun enriches skin vitamin D
eyeballs turn back toward brain
eyelids flutter as the butterfly
and like Chuang-Tzu before me
beauty amazes confounds confuses amuses,
but leaves ever after an awe of the unknown.

Dream beetle; draft #2

I sit on the dry turf
sink into hillside's fair chalky meadow
dry summer day clouds mixed crimson magenta
and for months ash masked sunsets the world over.
My minds eye sees beetles burrowing through the dung of my dreams
crimson and black carapace
mandibles grind even rock to dust
palpi feel for food and digest
stone-dust their waste back-filling tunnels
like analid these anthropods mix like no sex does.

I now know as no sense can tell:
sun enriches my skin with vitamin D
eyeballs turn back toward my brain
eyelids flutter as the butterfly
and like Chuang-Tzu before me
beauty amazes confounds confuses amuses,
but leaves ever after an awe of the unknown.

Dream beetle

To relax I sit on the dry turf
sink into hillside's fair chalky meadow
dry summer day clouds mixed crimson magenta
an ash tinted sunset for months the world over.
My minds eye sees beetles burrowing in the dung of my dreams
and their mandibles even rock grinds to dust
their palpi feel for food and digest
stone-dust their waste back-filling tunnels
like analid these athropods mix like no sex does.

I now know like no sense can tell:
and as the sun enriches my skin with vitamin D
my eyeballs turn back toward my brain
eyelids flutter as the butterfly
and like Chuang-Tzu before me
beauty amazes confounds confuses amuses,
but leaves ever after an awe of the unknown.