And through golden eyes purchased

 And through golden eyes purchased
we watched children rise,
running popcorn down movie aisles.
French lovers balleted the kiss
and Degas dancers pirouetted patterns
on the walls of my house
where all things are possible!
Ah those muscular connections
to the god of stars;
freed from the belly's grim countenance
to fire the eyes and blow
the bolted doors off
and forever their creaking hinges!
Toasting to wild Arabian Nights
and to Dodge City bar fights,
licking the Moon's marbled streaks
like fudge from the Sundae.

There’s more to being tough

There's more to being tough
then some folks suppose;
more than say,
            toothpicks and Camels.          
Brando plays in his pockets,
chews on a grin, dreams
of a plastic nipple flashing
in neon sincerity,
scoring wet in the pinball night.
He curses his Eva Marie
and her movie fascinations.
He pumps his 44 fists
into the Gable of her dreams.
A Camelot shattered,
and what can you say?
There is something
in the man.
A voice unspoken for
cramming every word.
Within his chest
pinballs rattle down empty pews.
Within his chest
a penis vomits blood in porcelain bathrooms.
Within his chest
the old woman asleep
in the subway
condemns Heaven
with each twitch
of her knotty brow.
Gone beyond words,
he settles for an honesty,
a shrug or a grunt.