the
wind unleashes its fury on
the
island connect by two bridges,
and
all else in between;
seagulls
fly to stay even then
let
the force push them down,
and
to either side, while others
fight
the force like they are
having
difficulty climbing stairs;
waves
churn and show their white foam
as
they approach, taller than before,
hitting
the shoreline with a deadly force
digging
out the sand with their approach;
small
craft disappear from the horizon
nor
any large craft too, just a line across
much
darker than the dark sky;
palms
move as they were intended
but
smaller trees are pushed and bent
as
if they were all quite inebriated,
wishing
for a home they had never left;
furniture
on the Corsican tile patio
remains
true and steadfast but the
billowy
pillows play in the wind;
windows
stained with ocean salt spray
fixed
and swollen like swollen eyes,
peer
out as if underworld devil demons
getting
a glimpse of new arrivals;
porcelain
columns hold up the seldom
used
structure unless visiting guests,
otherwise
the monument stand monumental
leaving
the caretaker with much to do.
2Jun14
the
wind blows true
and
cool against my back
as
I cough up my daily
ritual
of thoughts, laced
with
Arabian coffee,
recording
ideas never
before
realized and will
never
return again unless
camouflaged
and…
in
so doing, would be
an
entirely different word;
the
wind blows true
and
cool against my back
as
my minds travels into
itself,
searching the hidden
closets
for words unintentionally
placed
on a non-typical
cleaning
day or if
my
focus had been stolen
by
an intruder who awoke
me
and wanted to talk.
2Jun14
there
is a place
in
the mind
where
thoughts
are
bent and
distorted
in
order
that they
might
be used
to
hide obsessions,
doubts
and
preconceived
ideas
and ideals
from
the bearer
whose
words are
being
used again.
2Jun14
no
sun sublimely shines today
on
our side of the world,
here
in paradise where all the
beautiful
people flock to play;
and
yet,
the
sun is out or
there
would be no light…
and,
must
be hidden
behind
the clouds,
behind
the turmoil and the wrath
currently
unleashed upon us;
no
sun shines today
on
our side of the world
in
this abandoned valley.
2Jun14
streaks
of sun push their way through
the
dark clouds like warrior swords
fighting
their way through opposition;
closing
ranks, the sun streaks disappear
as
quickly as they arrived, leaving the
rest
of us wondering about our fate;
relentless
winds blow and nag at us,
angry
and upset ex-wives I suspect,
pushing
us around like ocean currents,
bending
us differently in directions
not
like the bending palms normally do;
boiling
waters lift our their arms to us
like
open coffins anxious to be filled…
and
the Siren’s call is tempting but
journey’s
end does beckon stronger.
2Jun14
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