Behind the Moon

I’m not clever at unlocking

doors. Never been clever with

hammers, scissors or pails.

Not good at unlatching bras,

or the mystery buried in

the darkest matter.

BFM

If I Could

The wall switch controls the hall lights on and off.

Those close to me wonder why I walk in the dark.

As if I knew the latin root for switch, which as it turns out, is perhaps Middle Dutch – swijch

B.F.M.

Being Dark

Click on image for larger view

Burned Once

How will go for me 

when

stove top

gas burners 
are 

flaming high

and grease 
is 
all that I am?

B.F.M.

Cookies in Action

Beautiful mature women

looking for honest,

wealthy man. 

Click Now it’s OurTime,

before gout sets in.

B.F.M.

Aokigahara

Awakening doesn’t mean 

a lifetime of day lilies,

sometimes it’s an unbearable 

dense forest. Where 

pine limbs jerk under duress.

Heavily fruited bodies 

swing 

twist

swirl 

toiling to liberate 

bedeviled shadows

who’ve seen behind

the veil.

B.F.M.

Abandonment

My rime formed
in formative years
is meant to keep you at bay.

My slick craggy shores, 
lack kindling or foothold
is meant to keep me distant.

My charm: 
trapped coolness;
glassy particles;
seething–hatred–remorse;
thick tarry dark matter;
belief in a Simoom fairytale.

B.F.M.