"Katy dear, make me a road-map"

                                          Katy dear, make for me an old country road-map, knitted among southern quilts of residential comfort, rustically rooted in torn domestic idolatry; transcending worn patterns of embroidered evenings beside candlelit windows, dwindling in stale afternoon hours and warm sullen nights beside road-sign motels; where phosphorous constellations fuel-up a twilit horizon.
                                         Katy dear, the tractor-trailer season will soon be behind us. Our wary two a.m. kitchen outings, out through a backdoor vestibule, below fiery backyard awnings; while a windswept tide creeps in off the vast Atlantic. We danced recklessly in counterfeit living-rooms to colored vhs anthems, drunk on cheap burgundy, reciting the Gettysburg Address in forsaken tongues; how I wish I got to know you better.
                                         Early morning telephone calls to your illiterate stepfather in the depths of his dementia; begging for a couple of bucks for gas and beer; Katy dear, our food-stamp camaraderie expired monthly. In an inherited ranch-house you once owned; fresh out of college in stylish stupor.
                                       With your mothers vintage records and your sister's prescription drugs, we created a dying season within reptile eternities. An autumn of juvenile lust, we attempt reconciling; weekly illuminating downtown, while frail cathedral footsteps linger down county pathways.
                                   A summer of greed where you stole my heart from me, I snagged your virginity too soon. A tired teenage girl in the hearth of bucolic delirium. With our rolled cigarettes and sunburned agriculture, in jagged midnights we lay past out on the grassy dooryard landscape, naive winter reckoning spilled piles of fresh-fallen snow in soft white drifts. We grimly decorated the front-door lobby with flickering red and green dollar-store luminescence.
                                    Springtime was carnal and of the pilgrim earth,  dewy green pastures stretched out languidly beyond our unkempt lawn, magnificent auburn heaps of unmarked foothills, intoxicating our spoiled senses in rural aromas.
                                     Then Katy, our resources fell abruptly short;  pride came before our fall. A pale rupturing aftermath of sober realization, dead pets and morning-after clinics, a red beat-up mustang convertible and a pair of torn soiled dungarees. Our devices left us bewildered, in gods naked world; more was revealed to us, below soap-shrunken planets of ultraviolet demagnetization,
                                           Our drugs and money seeped down dingy basement drainpipes, gnawing a gaping hole into our future.     

Harlequin Angels (Vol 1)

                                An arid city skyline spread out behind section eight project housing. The inner-city breeze bled black transparency through the urban maple's glisten. Through a tumult of scattered shadows refracted off poignant skyscraper rooftops. Sweltered city streets bred frugal hope and endless futility; abandoned promises and reconciled reckoning.
                               Noah's ancient ark's fragments carelessly distributed throughout native garage establishments. Industrial steel playground facilities and embedded silver parking-lot routines; afternoon sweat beams razor-sharp heat off patriotic edifice countenances; a native sun submits inevitable life to a counterfeit populace. Plaza fountain masonry dribbles grayish mortar off dampened sedimentary cisterns. Autumn trees slumber in summer gusts of subtle wind off the vast Atlantic perimeter; an unrewarded coastal penitence.
                               Prayer readings in quaint non-electric corridors. Humble installments made daily below seven-branched candelabra; silently etched towards placid evening . The atmosphere's delicate phosphorescence dwindles majestically down a brass-frame horizon. But what vulnerable metals and frail materials are we to work with, oh ye of little faith? The migrant swallows sordidly circle round a windswept dooryard. Forlorn lady of casual providence in modern exile; pre-madonna of rural upstairs balconies;
                               Let us go through backyard kitchen vestibules out to the ravenous night ; where ominous wind whispers nocturnal secrets of transmigration. 
                            
                               Harlequin Angels  ( Vol.1)
                              
                               Be condemned then; and keep on living. Now is forever; as the son of man.
                               What was in her heart tore her apart. He being part of her,
                               threw away what came on tranquil days of gluttony.
                               My soul is not to blame; it is framed in picture.
                               What hangs from familiar walls of unimaginable sorrow?
                               Maternal candle-light warmed the vacant sill.
                               Below dark drapery that hides the day.
                               from blind eyes and warped minds of miserable sinners;
                                it is they who suffice the harlequin angels insatiable appetite.
                               
              
                                   

"auburn streetlight itinerary " (these are teatime intervals)

                                   No time for abandoned lovers, or wooded birds of drudging song below fallen rainclouds, rapacious thunderstorms heave dry city landscapes . Dreary and irreproachable; lurking in moist fragrant density. Disintegrating gray-mists of afternoon shrubbery. Lucid garden-hose imagery. Nut-rooted squirrel grounded in a stale Autumn roadside retrieval. Auburn streetlight itinerary (these are teatime intervals). A daily ink-bled newspaper awakening: sultry oak-tree insinuations. Female and preoccupied on pensive Friday; loot-day-loot:  darkened chamber of residential cupboards and frail antique upholstery; imposing on fine frayed fringes of ambiguous luxury; though how preposterous! The malingering thought of having to wait until tomorrow; the trouble of every mortal soul; left swayed out upon rural footbridge boundaries.
                                Promiscuous fall lover awaited thee, upon venerable afternoon balconies. A painstaking migraine; proposing the one unanswered question: how does one make it through a twenty-four period free of casual headaches and unpleasant routine subtleties? Pretentious is each and every inevitable morning flavor (while hidden in it's native foreground). English breakfast or Earl Grey luncheon? Her petite pale hand gradually reached for my bloody spanner; an old beige hand-me-down tourniquet. Shower dew sweat emerged from a suburban bathroom window, making its way through an upstairs residential hallway. Evening-shaded window left open amid daytime preference; translucent moon vibration in purple-red alignment; vibrant shades of blue descend down from a silver-silhouetted skyline. Windswept grayish hues; lipstick infiltrations and industrialized chemical tendencies. Sheer sullen mechanics; left nervy upon eccentric after-hour despondency. Blood-red, frail and minutely dwelling. Intricately subdued and belligerently vacant. Naked, vulnerable and intoxicated: drunk in woolen velour pantyhose while mounting a pinch-penny staircase to venetian midnight landings. 
                 
                                Drunk on casual Tuesday. Nocturnal mourning symphonies of ruptured illustrations. Comfortable magazine jewelery premonitions; a forbidden household demeanor. Proposing the one unanswered question: on what time and in what season does one let-loose? Childish bedtime readings upon dull-bidden drapery; velvet and marble ancestry. Four-story shades drawn in lucrative livelihood perimeters. We've grown preferably frost-bitten, devoid of modern folly, exempt to premature tidying. Cleanliness is endless and eternal. Flesh-like philosophies are now and treacherous. Seamen walkways of elementary youth; cement cemetery gatherings. Freemason mortar molds between porous seminary sinews. Leaf-like courtyard promenades and adjacent courtyard symmetry: Persian-pillared corridors structured in hieroglyphic reckoning.