Crutch

Shriveled cloth

that too, did you.

Comma blossom conversation

drop, jump in the moon,

skimming the nightjar of what is now mist.

We danced on train in. Gaunt

fruit glaze mud of sluice mill and scissor.

Spooned the glad man's gabardine plant nuggets

to light trail pack and bent. Find him late

in the iridescent algae at the farthest edge

from the track. We paste grim on the rack.

Like your kernel nub on the amble contour

of a nightshirt, a grasping bramble

of slander hand. Heart buried spindle. Poke

a bonnet switch cloth snagged in briar

duct under fungus lump burl and dally.

Fugue. 

Dissolve a gilded lump as dusk slump. 

Look. Poach. Acorn oak. Splendid

crutch of naked and murk.

James and Storm - Minneapolis, July 1994

James - Hoyer Heights, Jan. 2011

In Sheets of Rain

I dream in styles of offstage weather edge

and the white distress bonnet. Suspend

in linen drift. Decoupage. Hide

a holdover bag by someone’s

daughter leave to rain pause

like a similar church and

the resined pew in memory.

One discovers bird flurry and

necessitate claw, she at a time

smiles so slight, her kindness

to make the outline seldom garden.

There’s a certain obstacle to that texture.

Drawing in crayon and pen - by James, Donna and Paula

Such Cut

Out in creosote

heather pulverize moon surround

and curve retraction, woolen girder exhales

continual dusk and barge among sky sofa wells.

Palm under. Forced down the blazed out

lull bonnet, and under flank, sparkle emotion.

Spry lidless you, pre-sleeping in blank tubes,

your brocade retract and mended lift aloft, now

hat out with your cramp claw rake the air.

The form possibility and prolonged contortion.

As a forgotten gem, fog, horn-hem, lock and moon

rose lattice, at twelve bristle drop, chatter at the edge

a gasp back the swipe board and keep promise hold joist.

Reach the water sank, and pram back below partition.

The gully hedge if dark clam stipple sieve ferns

and black candor made usual plain mill

splice, while what’s left out, while when

only the tin crane remain.

Flat cotton. Lavender

grown linger. Mango

skillet and such.

Fasters

Just like a buddha in the dome hut of ironwood, blunt

cornice hook breeze, squeeze and feel the drop. He pull

the caesura curtain, spark kinickinick hash

and icy splash of see tap in a coffee can, comb out

the etch cloth foggy naïf bristle gap. Be here crochet.

By twilight soon of the portico, he go beaver moondream

and knife clutch. He would terse beating on strict

margin of sky, ready for battling of sparrows, tight snitch

in the unscuff glove lift and back high, sweet rise

of a drink for the night moth utter fly and like

a saucer jaunt, whether supposed mercy

mutual increase, match and damp,

and go nifty with the magic bone,

or go back.

detail - acrylic on canvas

digital photo

detail - acrylic on canvas

Le déjeuner sur l'herbe

Chatter bloom on the edge

where mulch egg thatch collapsed.

Fetch a sedge cheese and butter bread

in a patio satchel. Birds beak wide

at metal moss stream near the hang edge orchard

scrape the dead marsh grass on a bridge fly.

I pull you en plein air on red plaid [breathe],

smell of your heart lonely, jelly egg. Dazzle

an oat bellow bride the cold of which forever pickle.

In sight you will shape, pass sea foam and kitchen

body being. I tip a blue hat and elusive

tally lull between dense laments. Bird.

Under ache of harder sun, I leg pipe darken

the blazing terse and faux drip the rinds

into the salt path [we breathe].

Beacon Slurry

Broken slurry of a wobble fantastic girl. She needed I

was not so. Hoist jam in the dark early and passed descend

collate slurry, yet much of the mallet turner I see finally

haste blister theft and fixate for the bone paddock.

Freak for fishing pole putty jar squish in the brainpan.

Eat green apples. Cleft there in the camel boot pontoon

molt, furred knock over not sieve. Who it is. 

Woodcut

Cruller

The blue line burn ripple down a lucid clump and besmirch

smooth skin, pink and narrow. Spoons. Down the hallway

hardwood slats, her sulk place overlooks the sound. The sea,

the nausea. Her trawler with nets heavy. I within blue line

and lithium haze nuts. Teakettle bone proper.

Knock (acrylic and hair on board)

With My Sewing Machine

Outside the shroud we terse facedown, ham hock

in a broth, the cloud the beer. Speak of the sky lit dead

we fear in entendre. Chew the slap box and past

jug in a sack, wimpled the forth facet, same time

treacle your skinny line upon the brass plate. Lament

for the mute tongue. Drop plug and plant

ass back to the harder pew. Wait. Your silks fill

with embroider most.

Glacial Tide Forecast

Glacial tide forecast as fickle outlook, pale

mud hold response begrudging pearl uncork

and dumb disperse ministration. Bend a molar

over on a turkey leg stiletto. Sudden fall pang

and twinge in the brine sludge trough again. 

I pool drop seed and nuanced grieve, brain 

sponge. Our tongue tessellates and among 

languid thoughtbacks a tonal slide, 

both actual.

Hump and Whitey. Rest in peace, my friends.

Old Man - clay, wool, fur, acrylics, cloth, coffee, balsa

Pink Lolli

Fizz pink lollipop ensemble, ease into the wool

of an extension mantle. Permeate furtive tank

pressure strays, and on light for the plum sheath

of the putty. My scavenged wealth stands hollow

at a call for the linen scrub narrows. Alter plain

braid. Plan and fluff for the breakfast melee

withheld from the pantry sack. Stoic touches. 

Powder. Bread and jam.

Tangled Brain Gym

Tangled brain gym almost never understood

where with wet filament flourish, than analogous

primrose muzzle under a slump hat leave me look

as the corpulent acorn husk ball wrapped in burlap,

humid slope and stipple. Man stand shimmery

below Sami locks, an eye on the fjord door,

a flounder in a fry pan.

Brine Sludge

Brine sludge rising in the sky. Rings.

Tether flap sighs unmoored fathom rudder

slivers. Starlings are beginning their bound inside

your hat plank. Hanging on a brain rung of my own

crystalline tide, I opt up and rather gloop

upon a bird umbrella. We find a branch

no one has named yet.

James and Fang, circa 1993

Pregnant - oil on canvas