seizure

when the room rushed a river exploded, when once the eddies broke
their slick wet concrete chunks blown far and wide, and then we choked;
an ill-met gaze, petrified, finds us wide awake.

a harrowing silence collapses the room to a point
between his eyes,
the faucet gushes hysterically,
the television cries;
muttering, trembling without a grasp
shuffling through some loony tunes,
but silence reigns throughout the room,
clock hands refuse to make their pass.

his gaze dim lit reverberates
an echoing laugh still parades and jeers:
night black pupils, Scythe and Hood,
a deathly glare, and there we stood.
when his mouth from out it spouts
bits of dinner and
in goes my sister's fingers
desperate,
he sinks forward like a child's old balloon, yet
all at once; a frightful rush
of plum red face and madness.

and soon the shudders, his rigid shell,
the house lights dim, the music ends
for the departure of a dear old friend.

our screams and incessant pleas tear his
hair and pick his skin
out from under our fingernails;
his teeth bared and bloodshot eyes brazen,
his arms brushing us aside,
raving like mad, baring his gums,
bursting our lungs with frantic circles,
a windmill tilts,
frustrating hapless attempts to help.

when he dies, the screams
degenerate into muffled cries,
sopping bare and clawing at our eyes
those cleansing tears trapped
beneath the fabric of our faces;

and then a cough says he's alive.

reliving, relieved, and somewhat revived
under grateful glances from tired old eyes,
half-hearted attempts to laugh past
errant hairs and awkward pauses.

father

the roar of the garage door rips
through the air, a veritable trumpet
blare, call to arms, reveille, a burst of snare-

beat of drum, steady rude:
the rumble of unison step as it forges
a pathway through the godly feud.

a boisterous voice
declares his toast, the lamps burst open,
wide as blinking eyes,

golden bright light streams and paints the ivory walls
dandelion.

"Drink to me, my Children three!"
the Pops of bottles' cork;
overflowing porcelain trough
and clutching dinner fork.

"Tonight, we feed upon the host of food prepared by
God's own hand entwined with the spirits of the Good!"
A bounty erupts from the clatter of burning pots;
as black as coal, they open up to bathe the quiet family
with an aromatic fantasy of salts, sugars, and saturated fats;
a moment's hesitation pause before they gorge themselves from the microwaved vat.

revelations abound

what a strange season
of upset winds and fabled gusts.
darkness stirs and
neon bright blurs colored spread across black water puddles,
and every hurried upside glance
resonates avec moi

the land of opportunity

oh, in the land of opportunity
i see a shiver in the waves from the
transient effect of the moonlight's lazy glow
glistening on the water like the sleek shiny black backs
of salt ocean mammals, to and fro;
a mountain's scrape across the old sky line
its heavenly splendor spilled rhythmically
down the old rounds and up again into the
darkening clouds.

oh, in the land of opportunity
come chances bright and shining clear
we determinedly set a course
for any shore that's shining near
with singing heard above the noise of
crashing waves and desperate gulls
i'm circling boat around the drain
for reasons that i can't explain

springing

so much of joy is
hidden in corners and crevices,
shadowed, obscured by the
light of the mirror,
and bruised by a slight brush of
the fingers.

withheld

only now can i see the things i've missed
and every time i read again will i remember what has passed
and what is there but there to know
of world and man and lastly self?

touch the sky

diamonds sing something fruitful brings
sun shining gleam across the chariot race's dented rim;
without itself it quiets down and settles in some
unknown town
but now it crows its mighty wind jostles the
assorted wigs and tablecloths aside the
dusty curbed street miles' line

man's modern interjects his
empty nest a foreign debt;
his crowded alley holds the weight of all
the world's gone wistful dead

his bird has flown, her eyes ablaze
is upside forth and backward gaze.
the anchor huddled her callous wrists?
as she tears away, she tears from his.

the arms they bore held open no more,
but for sake of sake, the ground's embrace:
and for all the doubt we live within
the disappointment leaves a taste