Horology

There is a rip... there
In the sky
Where the moon
Is pulling from its socket
Like a soft egg eye

Dangling
Vericose
Swinging
Gently
From a thin blue vein

Slow pendulum movement
Like a dusty German clock
Geartrain spinning inside
Frictionlessly
Ratchet clicking
Antique motion work
In need of slight adjustment
And cleaning

Time slowing
As the bob falls lower
Behind cumulus clouds

The tall black trees
Stand there
Spines cracking
Vertabrae separating
As bones of hands reach high
To pass the hour mark

Waiting
With
Decelerating
Breath
For the fragile yolk
To break lose and fall

Nightbirds go blind
As the sky goes dark
Clouds disappearing
And somewhere
A clock keeper
Trips
And bruises himself badly
As he climbs
The heavy wooden stairs
Of the cold stone tower

He settles
Alone
Chilled
Weeping
As his bells
Remain silent

Blues For A Dying Marriage

It was a molotav cocktail

Too much booze
Shaken
Not enough love and tenderness

Lots of bitters

The garden
Once her pride and joy
Rested
Defeated
Surrendering all of it’s splendor
To ugly weeds and vines
Wrapping around the trunks and branches
Of the small flowering trees
Wresting breath and animation

A botanical of the grave

The fairies were missing

Devils had moved in

Within glass bottles
That would be hidden
In the back of closets
And under the bed

Forgotten about

Like the pot on the stove

Love and intimacy
Burned away inside
With the brittle chicken bones
Turning ash grey black with carbon

The flowers of romance
Long withered and fallen

Petals crisp without color
Spread around the base of a vase of clear glass
Of which the dark departed stems were visible
In the futid green foamy septic water

Let Me Tell You About Some Of My Social Shortcomings

Just as soon as I finish
Flipping off the asshole driver
In front of me and tell
Him to go fuck himself
Because he is driving
Too godamn slow
Causing me to be later
Than I already am
For something that is way more
Fucking important
Than his pilgrimage to the pharmacy
On his retirement schedule
Upon this congested two lane highway

This road to hell...

Coffee In Bed

Well...

I think I had
The WORST sex
I’ve ever had
Last night.

I mean...

Look...

Why even bother?

If you’re that boring
Why not just turn on the TV
Or listen to Justin Bieber.

This morning
She brought coffee
Into bed
And proceeded to ask
Dull questions
Like

“Where’s the strangest place you’ve had sex?”

Really?

I rattled off a long list of places
Others might find strange.

But
What I REALLY wanted to reply
Was

“The strangest place I’ve ever had sex was here in YOUR bed!”

Now that I look back
And think about it

The coffee wasn’t that hot either.

Datura Stramonium Delirium

I feel lovely tonight
As I lie in my bed
Breathing in the soft frocks
Spinning open like a ballerina’s skirt
On pointe

Floating
Simply
Couru
Glissade
Across the wooden floor
Like the ghosts
That live here
With me

One a member of the
First Nation’s tribe
Algonquian
That is trying to speak to me
In his ancestral tongue
Ojibwe
As the erect trunks
Of the Devil’s Trumpet
Reach high up into the midnight moon’s glow
Of the October sky
A good eight to nine feet tall
Orange bell flowers
Hanging just below my windows
Glowing
Like small lit pumpkins

I lie quietly in bed
Breathing in tropane alkaloids
Atropine
Hyoscyamine
Scopolamine

And I understand
As he tells me
How the Lord Shiva
Was fond of smoking the Datura
And that they smoked together once
Using the Algonquian pipe
Spending several days
Crossing skies
And galaxies

Holding hands
And dancing

Grand Jete
Entrechat
Fouette En Tournant

The Indian man presented his pipe
To the Lord as a gift
And they still keep in touch
As spirits can

The Indian man ghost
Closed my eyes
With his invisible fingers
Offering me protection

As ballerinas’ skirts drop
At different times
Throughout
The length of night
Landing
Upon the ground
Far below
Leaving their attractive white legs
Naked and exposed

Heavy Narcotics

My dogs just got their balls
Chopped off.

After 10 and 5 years respectively.

My son went with me to the clinic
To pick them up.

“All done”
She said.

“They’re doing great!”

Another woman brings them out.

They are drug stupid.

They’re wobbling all over the place
And Cocoa proceeds to pee
All over himself.

We leash them up
And head out of the door.

Cocoa
Walks straight into it
Banging his head
Acting like nothing has happened.

I know that routine only too well.

I have to lift them up into the car.

Understandably so.

The woman at the clinic
Told me that it was okay to walk them
When I got home.

So I did.

They had no bearings
And they stumbled up the steps
As I dropped my son off at the house.

He was laughing
At their dopey antics.

“Now you go read”
I told him
Caught up in tangled dog leashes.

The dogs stumbled back down the steps
Tongues panting loudly.

Cottonmouth?

They swayed all over the sidewalks
Running into things
Running over things
Glazed over for moments at a time.

The little one pissed on the big one’s head.

The big one crashed into an election sign
On somebody’s front lawn.

I looked at the two of them admiringly
Knowing that they were stoned.

The laughs just came out of me.

I think about all of the times
That I have acted like this
By my own account
Or others...

Stumbling through bushes
Banging my head on something
Moving zig zag
Through streets or apartments
Pissing all over myself.

Acting with the same fervent nonsense
That I see my poor balless dogs
Performing in front of me
Though
I’m sure that they are too high to know
They are without balls yet.

Breaks my heart champs.

While I’m walking them back to the house
I notice
That they are not pulling me
Which is the norm

And that there are times when
I am actually pulling them
Saying

“C’mon, let’s go!”
But they are dope stupid
Languishing
The non sensical moment
That I had lived for many years

And
Not by choice
They
Had just discovered.

The Dream *By FogBob MoonSkull*

One night I dreamed
Of how much gas would be needed
To run a 4,000 foot long car.

The next night I didn't.

That’s what he said.

And I replied...

One night I dreamt I sold you that car.

The next night I dreamt I sold you the gas
To fill that car’s tank and became a rich man.

The following night thereafter

I dreamt you ran me over.

If you've never been run over by a 4000 foot car
It takes forever.

And as the car is passing over me
Endlessly
I yell up to Bob

“Re-tire the car!”

I noticed some balding
Happening on the tires
As he drove over me.

But it was too late.

He was already 2,500
Feet away.