Johnsienoel's profile

Wheeling east towards Route ‘09 I try to remember what passions had lain westerly like beautiful black ribbons of road to be journeyed upon. Wink-eyed concentration I ascertain the horizon’s scale, forefinger and thumb pinch upon my destination the December moon veiled in her moody glow. While the Red Kettle keepers' bells ring silent I make lassos out of moonbeams to swing aloft, re-map my route and harness the magic of yet another new year.

Queerest folk, the lot we are, all hidden in our disguise. Trying to hide, I told Myself, the Me that I despise. Me, Myself and I think not that I, myself, is me. Its queer we think as three in one and all so differently.  

Meddling after midnight, colluding in the dark, conspiracies and travesties play vice to my lonely heart.  

Jaded girl Belle traces heart shapes peeling Magnolia with mute gravitation skin to skin votively treading storied names across distanced palms Wormed wood clenches gnarled words carved swollen by a dewy whisper Beau takes Belle her ashen cinders cool disquietude copulatory limbs entwine twisted kicks lick ardent embers Red-tails pitch and wheel above conjectured carnage Blustering Beau's hewing blows etch tree flesh anew debasement lies new wounds sap a bitter elixir masking their evide...

Brewing steadily The journey long And charged I swilled back mellow Amber crafted swigs Of Shiner Bock upon your couch A stranger in your ‘No Country for Old Men’ Cormac McCarthy infused room For two months we tripped Through the portals of seduction Carefully crafted conversations That engaged us through the Predawn hours Never sexual but intimate As we unpacked and repacked Each others emotional baggage Seeing you for the first time Abandoned hope hung heavy Like the wooden han...