Unlocked.
Would you take me
just outside
when the party still rages
people laughing
glasses clinking
music humming
I’m humming too
deep in my core
where I await your touch
Will we embrace here
by the window
when the stars appear
dusk ebbing
lips meeting
bodies thrumming
The night’s thrumming too
deep in its core
where it awaits our abandon
Chased away from all the rooms in the house
By ghosts that will not share
I’m left with the garden shed
Puttering and pondering
Kicking my heels up in the dust
Of forgotten gardens and beds
Is there a way to excise the threat
Or to find comfort
In the unexpected, the gluttonous
The spectre that wants to claim all
When I take the chance
And return at dusk
Will I haunt the halls like the forgotten
Or will I be the one
To throw open the windows
To breathe fresh life starting again
You know when you said you’d skip this part to savor the rest?
I like this part best.
It’s not the easy thing, to wait and see
But I like when my body and mind are free.
There are times it seems we were made the same
And then I remember not to question or blame.
So we hunker down for some serious play
And claim que sera sera a la Doris Day.
only when thought was almost away
did it make sense
he could taste her
despite the distance
she could hear him
through words on a page
their own music
the backdrop
for the delicious dance
there was no beginning
and the end spiraled outward
beyond reason
so they could remain
locked in a coil
of sweet torture
Rushing down the devil’s own highway
trying to catch the moon
as it plays tag with the sky
Wouldn’t want to miss the dance
as we battle with tongues
and every wit we can muster
Passing through ghost towns
filled only with dusty dreams
and out of tune player pianos
Can’t stop feet from tapping
and fingers snapping
to the wailing moans of singing ghosts
Running free to a new hybrid
forged from mettles of old men
and drawings of young girls
No stopping progress
trains of thought
or free verse pouring
No circling back to collect souvenirs
the dust from each town will suffice
a painted garden of remembrance
The Word Rummager 