Designed to Kill

At first I thought, guns are designed to kill,
killing being their essential purpose,

twitchy triggers and bored barrels anxious
to thrust their loaded charges at something.

If they merely wound, then they fail the task,
albeit at hands a bit too shaky.

That's when those hands and my eye connected.
I saw, so are we — designed for killing:

bipedal stance a leg up on hunting,
with our oft-deadly knack for tool making.

These arms in blood-lusting grip, we follow
where our frothy appetites take us,

but sometimes those trails only lead us back
to ourselves, another kind of preying.

Wither

Sun, then moon leave me.
Lacking both vision and dream,
I wither, unbranched.

Patterns

Patterns in patterns
they refuse to see without
a loan of his eyes

Dawdling

Still dawdling abed
he watches teak fan blades whip,
air thicken and fold

Needy lips

Needy lips sip, slip
off, the proof of their taking
a glistening tale

Invisible

Being invisible
has one great advantage:
Whenever you decide
to disappear
no one notices.

Pupil

The pupil pours tea
from a pewter pot
as the master marks
her languid posture

Florid

With excuses dressed
in florid prints, he fends off
their unflinching stares

Not leaving

Not leaving a thing
to chance, he ties together
all life's incidents

Dropped

d
r
o
p
p
i
n
g

my
speech
-less
(thought)

my
emotion
-less
(care)

until...

I
hit
and...

s-h-a-t-t-e-r

Shy bulbs

Shy bulbs hide their smiles,
cringing till lapsed affections
discover new warmth

Shrewd Cardinal

A shrewd cardinal
conceals his rude-eyed peeping
behind fluid songs

Hurtling

A hurt-ling, I always hurtle
head first with lips puckered
unpoised by each mazy turn,
the walls smacking my face
profoundly

Paramecium

oblongingly
it's swept on
synchronous cilia
whipped to spiral through
scummy ponds
and cytoplasmic
feast

Unglued

Slyly come unglued from
time's straight and sticky flow,
he watches a life spill out
through his many aged eyes

Pyramids of sand

Pyramids of sand
poke noses 'tween grass, hop off
to bathe in the sea

Flash Fiction: False Imprint

He imagines he feels her first.
The slight tap of slender fingertips
to stop the holes only she can see
run down his fluted arm.

Then, tender lines of perhaps
too-thin lips follow along his neck
to shape lyrics from bouncy songs
he heard once, in passing.

Finally, her whole body pulls close
eager to imprint his bare back
with blocky paragraphs that break
his inhibited spell.

All this happens in glancing yet.
They haven't met, but when they do
their story may choose to travel
less conventional paths.

Tied-down paths

Rusted gray cross warns
Tied-down paths to salvation
have been rerouted

Eco-vandal

An eco-vandal
he wears sandals to brand all
polluters with hushed steps

No Peer

He has no peer,
peering into
the hearts of others
and finding his own
pernicious desires