Desk Jockey

daily I ride

the hard-muscled back

of this desk

with the flogging determination

of a thoroughbred

down the Derby’s backstretch

as if I were shrunk

to half my size

and had thighs of tensile steel

committedly I straddle

wheels of invisible progress

flying blindly around curves

at Autobahn speeds

pushing past limits,

self and other imposed

spinning the survivalist grit

besting Tour de France

pre-doping scandal style

endlessly I wrap

my future around this computer

as I would my hairy

arms around your neck

sliming my banana munch

in your ears, screeching

episodically hurling feces

Doppelganger of that monkey

you can’t get off your back

earnestly I mount

shabby wheeled Naugahyde

seeking satisfaction

in the arms

of a careworn lover

together we stroke

old familiar rhythms

grinding toward temporary

oblivion in sweet release

(artist: unknown)


Echoes of Mourning

train whistles

a piercing tribute

to all the lonely

solo journeyers

en route between

hither and yon

transfixed, in transit

with impermanence

dove coos

a plaintive lament

calling out

in acknowledgement

futures lost

wounds proclaimed

singing the dirge

of yesterdays

there is comfort

in evocative elegies

they, like she

hum notes by heart



in the aftermath

of self-immolation

at the stake of

being the helper

fire-started with

runaway empathy

fueled by

supporting an underdog

inflamed with

fighting injustice

hungrily fed

on the sacrifice

of self-preservation

her smoldering remains

stutter sparks

ignite anew

in the firestorm

of charred instincts

(photographer: unknown)

Moon Ate the Dark Challenge: Aurora Phoenix/Dangerous Seduction

My submission for Braveandreckless’ “Moon Ate the Dark” writing challenge. Thanks for the great opportunity!

Brave and Reckless

The dark calls

with many hungered tongues

its asymmetrical seduction

sweeps and keeps

me off my feet

Dark is a sensual vampire

summoning in a sublingual murmur

caressing abashed tresses

kissing with fangs hidden

until my neck is bared

Dark, the spellbinding wizard

mouths against my breast

in verses near liturgical

with sorcery of velvet

it unwinds my breath

Dark, a crafty conjurer

slips beneath my skin

beguiling inner opening

with falsity prophetic

it curls around my core

Dark, the deft magician

lures my parched soul

deftly eats defenses

I inhale deep infinity

trembling toward submission

Dark plays me, fiddle-like

tempts of little deaths

bridge bowed and back arched

I hover near oblivion

beyond its gaping maw

Moon arises silvery

softly wise and cool

illuminates dark’s perfidy

the end of sanity

bewitchment of sweet release

The dark wanted

to make love to me

it argued an enticing case

the moon…

View original post 63 more words

Resurfacing the Return

it must be Mt Everest

she is climbing

barefoot bikini’d


in the howling

of the coldest wind

peak unscalable

blizzard obscured

she only knows

ascend she must

it is undeniably the Sahara

across which she trudges

camel-packed and overloaded


in the relentless

beating scorch

destination miraged

shimmering oblivion

on and on and on

she slogs, determined

unquestionably it is the Trench

from which she arises

crawling and kicking


under lightless pressure

fighting the crippling bends

surface the faintest

hint of a glimmer

near to bursting

she strokes on

exhausted in endless effort

desolated in the solitary sojourn

she pauses

contemplates inverted

mysteries of the universe

wonders if peace arrives

in standing still

(photographer: unknown)


Are You A Library Book? Because I Want To Check You Out, Take You Home, Tear Your Jacket, Spill A Drink On You And Bring You Back Late

Written in collaboration with the creative genius Ward Clever. It’s such a challenge to keep up!


If I were a book and you opened me

You’d think someone had bound me wrong

While each chapter hangs coherent

The plot has lost its place

The crisis crests too early

Or perhaps, five chapters late

Some of the pages were left blank

Continuity errors make the story hard to follow

The quotes atop each chapter

Have nothing to do with the contents

My genre is unidentifiable

Every page is already dog-eared

My titles are misnomered

Despite audacious authoring

Writes and re-writes equally wrong

Editor in chief likely corrupt

My thesis antithetical

The metaphors eat themselves

The foreword was penned by an unknown

The preface tells you nothing

There are multiple endings

So you don’t know what I might do

Symbolism abounds

But no one knows what it means

Though I am the book

I cannot read it well

It must be written

In languages extinct

Translators misunderstood

My ambiguous complexity

You may study me fastidiously

Someone may have taken a word out

Or changed a word here and there

Notes in the margins

Put there by those who read me before

Their words are not my story

Past readers and reviewers

Skewed interpretation

I order and re-order

The pages and the chapters

Dusting off the jacket

In hopes of comprehension

My font is fantastic

My diction, delightful

The flyleaf is fecundity in white space

My binding seems weathered

Though I feel brand new

My story is ancient

I present all the trappings

Of literary masterpiece

Rich character development

Tragicomedic wendings

Astute observations

Scribed between the lines

In the screenplay adaptation

All the names and places

Will be changed

To protect the innocent

I also come in braille

So you can feel me

I want to be read with reverence

Tickle your fancy and funny bone

In least expected passages

As you dive deeply

Into my pages, rapt

With attention undivided

I want your bookmark left in me

As much as I want to leave a mark on you

My pages weathered and reread

Bringing you laughter and life

And as you finish my last page

We start a new chapter

Invisible, I Watch You

I am lint on the carpet

beneath notice

trod upon, of necessity

from this vantage point

I study you

(I can, because you don’t see me)

the dark haunting your eyes

shadowing your orbs

of warmest brown


I am the dust motes

swirling around you

invisible in sun’s absent rays

sighing past your soul

this close, I read you

(I can, since you won’t feel me)

the layered stories

sorrow etched upon

your beloved face


I am rainbow of future rain

hanging evanescent

over your shoulders

armor stiff in self protection

right here, I watch you

(I can, as I’m not real)

the well-clutched anger

sketched in new hardness

along your jaw, clenched


I was the balm that soothed you

until I was the pebble in your shoe

before I became the hurricane

that swept you away


Now you are the stone wall

holding back oceans

as if you can contain them

relegating us both

to the depths