Winter Pantomime

                                        ( Boiled-over affection lies in pools of drunken inertia;
                                          vaguely recalling a lack of awareness on my part.)
                                       
                                          Tuesday afternoons of malevolent December. Flickering holiday traffic heading northbound tonight across the wide polluted interstate. Neighborhood space-heaters; a second-story library staircase perimeter.
                                          A city's hearth is on fire; radiantly illumined beneath propped village streetlamps; adorned in frail crimson moonlight and pedestrian sidewalk machinery. Assorted window silhouette-trees; ornamented landscapes tied ribbon red bows of azure. Mural collages overshadow columned sedimentary wallpaper canvases toward placid evening. Infernal daytime structures of prohibited parking-lots in bedridden autumn. Windswept dormitories piled in downtown factory high-rises; refract and reflect pale morbid souls of yesterday's transmigration.
                                         Her incarnadine complexion is tepid and coffee-like; fatigued and neurotic in microcosmic intervals.( Let us make our 5:00p.m. visit to an routine clergyman. Man of pillared cornerstone and tiresome eulogies amid infertile seasons of incest.)
                                         Lovers permit morning comfort to one another; tranquilly nourishing themselves in temporal awakening. Frail and bruised limbs penetrate corporeal bloodstreams; dangling downward toward tiled porcelain floorboards. She stood erect before an heirloom bedroom mirror; mortal antiquities past down from futile generations of self-abhorred folly.
                                        These insidious months grow gloomily and monotonous; analogous; juxtaposed in withered ideals and inherited maelstrom; depraving the spirit's source with unnecessary genealogy. Fervently sucking the inkling's blood that seethes between condominium trees; nocturnally varnished in seasonal disparagement; a motorized refrigerator labors in artificial climates aside pantomime pine-trees in deadened winter.
                                      An apartment radiator combusted between domesticated livelihoods; wine-glass apparel in vacant one-bedroom efficiencies; front-door stoops remain immobile through cedar tree bough disposals. Rural cemetery outskirt blueprints; engraved monuments pillared idly beside a darkened riverside embankment, dank and immersed in embedded aisles of flowerbed burial soil plots.
                                            

Intimacy and Fire

                                         We met in sunny fields of juniper; spread out across a flashing continent of vast vegetation. Maroon and crimson were our thrift store clothing's color at faded evening;
                                        the many velour shades of nightfall's anticipation. In neighborhood doorways we interacted commonly; exchanging ordinary countenances for words. Our futile identities reside calmly tonight amid the pulsating blood,
                                         surrounding our heart's home.
                                         In autumn, leaves rained down in auburn mists; descending from the abundant earth. A tranquil wilderness presented thunder amid August's faint lightning showers. We observed the stoic trees while they grimly sighed and swayed between placid hours. Your eyes cut sharper than double-edged scissors; piercing paper-thin flesh-like sinews,
                                      How clear and concise; the summer bled on. Into fiberglass attics of December, your winter sweater, knitted in delicate thread from soft fingers of frail suburban housewives who've known no comfortable mercy. There minds wander hollowly like dissipating ember below well adorned household mantels.
                                      Past telephone calls made in vain; get behind me Satan: I misplaced my wallet somewhere deep in the forlorn chambers of a prehistoric reptile zoo.
                                        In vacant innocence of sultry morning minutes, our denizen souls burst outward, beyond cold January shutters; out past the dry corner post office; these embalmed streets still recoil through stale attempts at misrepresented utopias, of glamor, clamor and thwarted mistrial.
                                        Our sacred love temporarily sways in irrevocable convalescence; I solemnly recall her mortal boundaries in inevitable human concupiscence:
                                   
                                          Bar-Jesus still paraphrases scripture in omniscient catacombs off drunken midnight boulevards; along forlorn perimeters of primeval fate; amid flickering tinsel alleyways of biodegradable furniture and dreary raindrop stiletto innuendos . The fleshy worm still festers within her corporeal physique; she abhors herself and not her sin. She delights in others misfortune; and hauls a hardened heart with her wherever she goes.
                                         her purse's fabric is less toxic than her feeble soul.
                                       In a local city hospital on a prior mid-summer morning; many decadent decades ago: while automatic engines monotonously hissed off the Ben Franklin Bridge down the New Jersey turnpike,  orbits and orbs of tranquil phosphorescence manifested manifold planets all revoloving around one hypnotic sun; a dawn-like premonition of Saturday sofas on a summer afternoon, a southern city row-home; where a creaking screen door remained propped open for the freshly vacuumed carpet to dream of six coming days and nights without a vacuum. 

"Sundry Awakenings"

                                        
                                          Its been a long time for you now; to
                                                               follow me down apprehensive evenings of Sunday origin; where embryonic night and crimson drapery coincide; to dwell and stumble down dormant avenues of pensive sorrow in bleak November. 
                                                 Apartment window balconies in poignant summer we're inclined  to remember; everything in its semi-totality; as you find yourself now; brandished and hollow amid infertile seasons of dry anticipation; did we foreshadow all that has come to pass; warily elapsing onto deaths primordial doorway. These eastern foothills are blasphemous, minute glimpses of transient humanity in concupiscent intervals; is this what we are condemned to believe in; autumn courtyards below brick concrete columns of mortar masonry; as a broken grandfather clock is hurled down from a third-story railing mezzanine.
                                        You of elderly visions and provisions; constrained to your leisurely recliner; morbid hypocrisy clouds your senile days and ways; dreadful decades of routine hands and vain gestures. Consuming carnal meat with carnivorous tongues; do not teach me what is of the mortal earth: I have eyes to see how afternoons unfold to delicate dusk; as its always been.
                                        Flesh wounds remain sacred to men alone; desolate in the year of pedestrian upheavals and inherited folly. Feline misinterpretations perspire from feminine lips; taking civil orders in neighborhood boulevard diners off polluted interstates. It is the lethargic daytime hours that wage inevitable war on our pliable souls. Through condensed traffic and toxic smoke signals ascending from automatic engines. Rapture comes to us in lunar midnight premonitions; evangelically and well hidden, our love's engraved upon 
                      illumined window sill bulb imagery, refracted in shadowy luminescence off porcelain tenement light fixtures.
                                       We have all become false witnesses; groaning through sporadic tumults of gas-station indigestion. To think is to lie to one's self; do not think; but be as the stoic ocean tide calmly breaking off Mideastern shorelines; the profane city will wear and tear us down to our self-inflicted marrow; putting faith in what is of this world, what more is to be expected than an inevitable death only this world can possibly contrive.
                                           Youth's passages deserted me upon prior timelines, nakedly abandoned amid sultry cornrow lineage. Night-winds came on strong from the silhouetted east; I knew not where to lay my soiled bedhead. Gathering all I could in loose time, making haste among the dewy September daffodils, I came across an ascetic derv possessing an flickering oil-lamp. I asked him where I might find an country house along the desolate perimeter, he replied "thou continues lusting vainly for things thou shall not find, what is the matter with naked children these days?; always desiring something outside to complete what thou hast inside already."
                                       I've prayed through logic and self-restraint, I've prayed with bruised fleshy fingers shackled tightly on either side; you can't take this away. To not live by the law of men; but live by faith. In faith lies reward in which law doth not provide.