Nefertiti

Mummy dearest,

corkscrewed queen,

embedded six feet down.

Headpiece removed,

your skull looks normal;

too much like mine.

The gods are relieved your reign is complete.

Plague, Old Testament kind;

blood, locusts, first born.

Did they bury you fancy,

with rings on; the sapphire

I gave you for your birthday.

Rest.  There will be no dig; no museum,

no squandering of your remains,
no flowers.

tk/July 2014

Beautifully read by R.A.D. Stainforth ...

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Free

Late Sunday risers

consider briquettes.

Samples in paper cups. 

Frankfurters.  Beer.

Fresh from church,

a dressed couple prattle on

about which brand of chicken

they can afford.

She pokes her finger

in fleshy shrink wrap,

looks at him with spaniel eyes.

He thumbs a calculator.

All too happy not to be

duly plucked, pantyhosed,

bibled and heeled―

I hum muzak,

toss a breast in the basket,

without discussing

price, or the freeness
of its range.

tk/July 2014


R.A.D. Stainforth enhances my words...with the addition of Stainforth Blue to his black and white world... 

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Foxed

Someone made a wish,

pressed a flower,

left a tear on the page,

below trees

slashed with names,

hearts cut in bark.  Splashed

river water.  Catfish.  

Cat hair.  Dog-eared.

Pocked yellow pencil.  Scribbles.

Foxed.  Cough in a concert, a kiss.

A single glove.

Cigarette ash dropped

Hansel & Gretel style

up frayed steps

to a lover's room.

Wood sighs.  Sheets twist.  

Sock with a hole.  Rain.

Mud.  Drainpipes.

Brave earthy things.  You.  

Damp.  Preferably mellow,

a little bit worn.

tk/July 2014


Lovely mellow read by R.A.D. Stainforth ...

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Found

There are dozens.

Unearthed.  Scrappy.

I open the door.

Some try to get out.

Casanova figure-eights,

makes love to my boots.

Fat one naps in a hammock,

another watches from the eaves.

Then there is you.  Waiting.  

I practice this moment in my head,

half-remembered.  Silent.

Nostalgia draws us, deliberate,

as if we have always.

I hold you, feel the scratch.

Look in your melancholy eyes.

Tell me everything.

I like to be sad.

tk/July 2014


Beautiful poignant read from R.A.D. Stainforth... 

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