Monsoon

Wet, you.

Oppressive, you.
Humid, you.

The smell,

…you.

BFM

Zen Masters

Comical
watching
two cocks
in the chicken yard 
fight  over
zen and
not zen.

BFM

Storm

Rain falls, words form, sentences puddle.

BFM

Hunter Gatherer

Walking the woods

gathering elm, maple, 

oak, birch, sycamore 
leaves, twigs,
patches of moss 
squirrel tufts, 
owl bones, feathers.

Hot glueing them to my
feet, ankle, calves, knees, 
thighs, buttocks, cock, 
stomach, chest, hands, 
forearms, wrists, biceps,
neck, cheeks, ears,
forehead. 

Hidden, I wait for prey.
I wait for you.

BFM

Bulbous & Red

I must stop making declarations,

’tis foolishness, a clowns nose.
I hate clowns, scary as a viper's pit.

BFM

House Poem

House Poem

House

Home Poem

Home

Poem Poem

Poem

BFM

Garden Path

Sometimes,
I exist

Sometimes,
I’m in control

Most times
my mind, a lie,
wanders
thistle paths
thorny dreams
swirling bricks
and chipped wood.

BFM

Sorrows of Sorrow

everything
i’ve
loved
i’ve
reduced

to art.

BFM

Watch

Dear poet, step away
from the laptop, put down
your pen and watch
the sparrow navigate
the Mesquite’s thicket.

BFM

Returning

after a long needed break

i return to being the self important
cartographer that I am:
the faux poet.

BFM