She was cornered

With no way out,

Except to confront him

Which she did,

Becoming his mistress.



January 1989

On each corner they stand
watching my every move,
mental guards,

protecting fantasy from reality;

I awake inside another room

of my imagination,

different than the first

with subtle colors of yellows and browns,

and no windows

or flower pots to clutter the space;

through the corner door,

I float and when I pass you

steal a kiss and plan our

next rendezvous;

from one room to the next,

I go and from one

sequence I go

with purpose

without end;

inside an ever-continuing

daydream (it seems)

outside the mainstream of life,

outside rational thought and

forever responsible to no one.

 

January 1989

3 Haiku's from 1988

We tried a couple

Of times and the result just

Increased the desire.

She wants him but since

He is married, must be a
Little careful now.


She couldn’t take this
New job, not now after he
Stepped into her life.


October 1988

I am neither

Depressed

Nor happy;

Although,

I would like to be one;

I am suspended,

Hanging in an

Unknown world,

Expecting answers

To the questions,

I have no idea

How to phrase.



January 2000

A new month

has begun

and it seems

all we do is argue;

and all you say

are really hateful comments

for which you

apologize causing me

not to trust you.



May 1996

there is no flow

with my life

and little ambition

that I seem
\to be blaming
on the influence of others,
when there is no one
to blame by me.

July 1997

she felt comfortable

with my return,

as if nothing was wrong,

as if no time had passed

between us, and we had

not experienced life with

anyone but each other.

July 1997

3 Haiku

The sun is bright this

morning, making it somewhat

difficult to face.

You protected me

and I appreciate that

and reciprocate.

I reach for the stars

and receive promises of

events yet to be.

December 1997

                                                      Spend time

in my mind,

see me

for what I am

not what you think I am,

or need me to be;

spend time

in my mind

wrapping your caring

around me

like the legs

of a whore.

March 1997

I do not like to feel

that I need anyone

and if you were to test that,

then I would let you

walk out of my life

like I did before;

no phone calls,

no letters,

no pleasant conversations;

it would be total indifference

and a

I don't care attitude.

August 1997

These early morning skies in Chattanooga

are beautiful, but, Morristown is my home;

and, I miss her offerings and the ease at

which they were given, and I long for those

familiar surroundings by which I know her;

there is a peace and stillness in this valley

but there is also an intensified screaming inside

that wants to be turned lose so that my

spirit can return to the only home it knows

and the only home I've ever really missed.

  August 1998

Three to Three

Numbness covers the back of my jaw like swollen skin

sliding across the lower row, my tongue feels suture

stubble as a hand might feel the face before shaving;

planetary rover eyes survey the room as one might expect

before clicking terrain pictures and surrounding

environments, learning to exist or perish; pillows

situated along the lower back permit accommodations

while permitting a false sense of security, allowing a

moment of relief to occur so early in the day;

stretching out like gymnasts, cats lounge on the lounger

waiting for the silence of the sun’s rising and the

treat that accompanies my presence in their room;

three to three, the clock face reads and much easier

than reading the face of students that will be in the

eight o’clock class five hours from now - it’s hard to

tell these days what these day will bring; there is nothing

to do but to think about thinking and about what I

should or should not be thinking as though, I could really

self-direct my conscious streams of illumination, as if

a match was lit instead of a bulb and I could somehow

blink it off and on simply with my intellect that many people

around me believe left me years ago, leaving me with

sleepless nights and an insatiable need to urinate; still,

life goes on . . . as it should, I would assume, and I am

free as I always have been to pursue whatever roles I choose,

regardless of how those roles are perceived by those who

think they know me because they know me; when, in

reality they know only that which I allow them to know,

providing me with few friends, but never vulnerable;

there is an emptiness where my back molar used to be

and no longer will I be crushing ice, at least on that side

and I wonder if that emptiness lies not just inside me

but within me, preventing me from seeing the feeling

that has abandoned me this morning at three to three.



10Aug12

A desire to unravel
her mysteries creates
a wonderful arousal;

shaking with expectations

as if the first time

could be repeated;

her breasts, pert and simple,

shaped for motherhood,

an alluring softness behind

the Cashmere sweater;

slender legs inside tailored

jeans wrapped tightly

around an imagination,

and we press together,
an involuntary excitement;
and, our bands loosely
fit around our illusion;
perhaps, reality has
ceased to be a fantasy.


March 1986

Placed into lines, my thoughts unpublished remain;

addicted to the caffeine of expression, my

aerobics of words are exercised in a daily routine,

a meaningful management of conflicts,

a concentrated drain of emotions, leaving me

wondering if doing nothing would do.

June 1986

separated by false perceptions and pride,
we bathe in a shower of words, alone . . .

making little attempt to hide the hurt that

penetrates our nakedness; we are

deliberate with our mistaken identities,

habitually concealing the truth behind our

shields of innocence while we accuse

each other of a loss of understanding and
commitment . . .  is there any love left
between us that we have not yet destroyed?


May 9, 1985

cradled in the soft
contour of our hearts,
filtered through a
system of logical
irregularities, flows a
displaced passion, an
irrational possession
superimposed upon our lives

like a musical minuet
holds forever the libretto
of our past as if our
secret must remain;
must be ever-present,
an illusive fantasy that
shares today and tomorrow,
and all tomorrows that
faintly remind us of
our musical connection.

June 13, 1985

beyond the passion of memory,
amid the false illusions of fantasy,
we live in the inescapable void
of reality like two forces whose
opposition against each other deforms
any belief that our meaningless
battles have some divine healing effect
yet to be realized, which in blending
our determinations will smother
the bitter fires that fuel our hatred
and extinguish our jealous anxieties.

September 12, 1984

turn back the hour to
when we first made love,
where guarded feelings
released our innocence;
where kisses quietly
consumed us and we
denied ourselves the
first of many pleasures;
yet, we balanced our
desires with soft spoken
glances and felt the
ryhthms of our passion
in casual smiles,
silently holding the
intensity of our longing
in afternoon daydreams,
ocassionally peeking into
each other's weaknesses
and ocassionally allowing
our stolen tenderness
a few minutes of
shared sensations.


September 21, 1984

if I believe your expressions of sincerity

and renounce the security of my fears,

who will remain to tend my wounds

should my wall crumble and I fall to

the ground injured and defeated?


September 11, 1984

do we motivate the young to be hateful by our comments?

do we teach them how to lie with our actions?

what chance do we give them to be different, when their

individual behavior does not agree with ours?


May 15, 1988

we painted our love many colors

enjoying them all, but never expected

to paint ourselves into a corner.

June 5, 1988

I don't know nothing about no farming;

I don't know nothing about no hunting;

I don't know nothing about no fishing;

I don't know nothing about no tractor-pulls;

but, you say I am an educated man.

June 2, 1988

right around the corner
is my future that I
cannot see or predict;
right around the corner
is my destiny that has been
designed and saved
just for me to experience.

September 30, 2010

my roles change from
one day to the next,
depending upon how
the day influences them.

August 25, 2010

look inside me again

and you will see an

emptiness and longing

for that which I

cannot ever possess.

August 26, 2010

pierce my heart

with your insults

and you will find

very little satisfaction

as I no longer fight back,

I will  just walk away.

January 25, 2010

we live our lives

in casual memories

of the past where we

were not even conceived,

taking for granted the

progress now surrounding us,

oblivious to what our world

would be like if we

returned to those days.

Jan 12, 2010

A Houseboat on the Nile

on your knees and hands you rest

like a dog awaiting its master’s treat;

with the slightest touch, arms collapse

placing your head flat upon the rocking bed;

goose bumps appear on your lower back

a musky female scent fills the sultry Nile air

breathing in the anticipated excitement;

startled by my touch, your inner thigh jerks and quivers

as I touch the hot stickiness of your excitement;

my face gentle slides over your softness

stopping here and there for a prolonged kiss as my

fingers feel the electrifying sensation of wet hair,

nicely trimmed, between your ebony legs;

my mouth slowly moves down to replace

moist fingers that are now sharing your

moist excitement with large swinging breasts;

submissive Arabic moans escape your open mouth

as mine devours your swollen womanhood as

eagerly as a schoolboy that saw his first nude picture;

but, with the skilled experience of an oral surgeon

unsurpassed for his young innocent age;

moments upon moments upon moments pass

of excruciating sexual passion builds, until,

like a volcano, finally erupts and a hot

orgasmic lava floods my mouth and face.

circa 1962-66

From the Cairo Calling (1962-1966) Series

IDENTITY

the solemnest of sleep

lives at the end of the day

much earlier than before

and much earlier do I rise,

regretting my own deceptions

that dawn breaks thoughts free

as it breaks up the dark light;

and, while embedded inside
my creative illusion, transcribe

letters in words

words into phrases

and phrases into subtle ideas

provoking insightful glimmers

into the ravings of an artist

who must conceal his identity.

28Jul12

From the Mornings Early Series

NEAR BY

Cats sleeping nearby

spouse sleeping nearby too

coffee cooling nearby

thoughts lingering nearby

fantasies fade

memories hide

laptop rests while

hope chills and

fans turn;

books rest

temperatures outside rise

chairs stand silent

as mind tumbles after

rustling curtains;

floors feel feet

vase reflects my concerns

flat screen blank

as is my need to be creative

on a Sat–ur–day as

light appears unannounced

as it always does and

I dwell on lame excuses

as I always do.

28 Jul12

From the Mornings Early Series