A Fear of Rose Water

This picture is entitled, "Angelic".

A Fear of Rose Water

The fine line between
flying and falling
is born in the aftermath
of an unexpected kiss.

Where fallen angels
rend useless wings
from their broken backs
and the disembodied stumps
flop uselessly
amongst oblivious lovers
who lick angelic
blood from tenuous flesh
and stuff pillows
with down that
was crafted directly
by the hands of
god.

She is the breath taken
before a warning.

The pillows become
a grave yard of tears
mixing with the blood
of dead angels
that litter the bedrooms
of the lonely.

She is the picture that
proves god,

burning in the ashtray
of a blind man
that has left
too many lovers
dangling at the
end of ropes.

Climbing rose vines
wrap around their ankles
and the winds are
trying to set them free...
trying,
but they fail in their intent
and merely serve
to drive the thorns
in deeper.

Their blood trickles down
pinking the water
I serve to my lover.

It tastes of roses,
and a vague sense of loss.

...and soon she falls
into my flesh
and we dance
and kiss
and ruin delicate
lace,

but we both know
we are doomed to trip
over dead angels.

A Place for Thrown Stones

This picture is entitled, "Thrown Stones". It was created specifically for the verse below.

A Place for Thrown Stones

[4] they said to him, "Teacher, this woman has been caught in the act of adultery.
[5] Now in the law Moses commanded us to stone such. What do you say about her?"
[7] And as they continued to ask him, he stood up and said to them, "Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her."
[9] But when they heard it, they went away, one by one, beginning with the eldest, and Jesus was left alone with the woman standing before him.
[10] Jesus looked up and said to her, "Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?"
[11] She said, "No one, Lord." And Jesus said, "Neither do I condemn you; go, and do not sin again."

--John 8:4-11, Holy Bible: Revised Standard Version


Caught up in lust,
she once again falls into flesh
and soon finds herself surrounded
by angry stones.

She runs from her fate
only to find her savior suspended, spiked and speared.
She heaves herself beneath Him
into the dim coolness betwixt Him and the sun.

Resigning herself to her destiny,
she steps toward her accusers
--only to find that she is trapped
in the shadows of the cross,
imprisoned in the right angles of divine shade.

Crimson streams gush
down the wood and stain her soul.
She looses her flesh and becomes
one with the absence of sun.
Nourished by the grace
of a dead savior,
her only pardon comes at nightfall
when she is free to dance on darkened-clouds
and revel in the sweat of young lovers.

Every sunrise is a sentence to be jailed
in the shadows of tombstones
whispering to the dead
and hiding in their bones,
‘til Christ returns,
forgives her once again,
and takes her home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's Note: I have always been curious what happened to the woman that Christ saved in John 8:1-11. How did she take the news of his crucifixion? This verse is a continuation of the story provided in John 8:1-11. It attempts to look at this nameless woman in greater detail. ~Max

Heure Verte dans le Cimetière

The title of the image is "Cain".

Heure Verte dans le Cimetière

i am sugar through the absinthe spoon
awaiting the louche,
(moonlight reflects
the shadows that lurk
behind soft folds
and musky kisses
that whisper breathless pleas
to hungry ears)
discarded lace
deliquesces into white sage
and the confusion
that promises clarity
brings me closer
to the bit of my
soul that lay
in the ground
with you.

perchance the little green fairies
may dig you up and help
wrench that piece of me
from your heart...

but no,

instead i will
drip through the slotted spoon
fall into the fog
sleep with the spirits
and drown.
the licks of envious
Victorian fairies
still fresh on
my flesh
as they lay me
in the ground
--just inches away from
you.

Author's Note: The title of the poem means "Green hour in the Cemetery". "Green Hour" is simply a time to drink absinthe. "Louche" has multiple meanings in this piece. The first being that "louche" is the word used to describe the clouding effect that occurs when you add water to absinthe. "Louche" can also mean having the qualities of being disreputable, shady, or shifty. It can also mean something subject to two or more interpretations and usually used to mislead or confuse. Quite frankly, I love all those meanings --and they all seem to fit.

The Penance of Rebellious Shadows

This picture, entitled Cain's Regret, was specifically created for the poem below.

The Penance of Rebellious Shadows

Pricked, throbbing, and
kissed with fever,
playful shadows
tug at their Gods
'til the flesh slips
from bleached bones.

Frightened shades
(fearful of reprisals)
slip into vacant skin,
wear the sacred meat,
and have delusions
of humanity.

Becoming adept
at fooling flesh,
they live among the divine
and soon realize
the penance for killing a god,
is to become one.

Opposite Ends of the Earth

This is a picture of the pier in Fairhope, Alabama taken from the Municipal Park at sunset on February 4, 2005.

Opposite Ends of the Earth

"...and he placed at the east of the garden of Eden Cherubims, and a flaming sword which turned every way, to keep the way of the tree of life."
--Genesis 3:24

You fell toward the heavens
as I passed the equator
and the earth moved between us.

(that may be the closest you ever get)

I never knew the
difference between
good and evil
until I tasted you.

Adam's sin left a void
you constantly try to
fill. You have become
an addict to a drug you’ve
never had.

You wanted me to save you,
but I'm not a savior
and even if I was
you'd just end up
nailing me to a cross.

At the Murder Scene of a Soul

At the Murder Scene of a Soul

"...and how do you trace chalk around a dead soul?"


when we lose faith
we die

we become chalk outlines
scurrying across the floors
of believers,
slinking under their sofas
when their faith
is too strong,
and hovering on the ceilings
above lovers
that have yet
to learn the
art of deceit.

we wait for the
opportunity to slip
into an innocent's shadow
and satiate our need
to devour their faith
in order that we may have a taste
of what we once had.

Malady Darkfall

Malady Darkfall

She speaks in tangents
from a scalpel tongued mouth
and when she licks her lips
splatters of crimson kisses
drip like lies
between luscious breasts.
Her whispers are harlots
that breathe close to taut skin
reveling in the slaps of wet flesh.

But her eyes are hollow
with a wisp of fading hope
that maybe someone
will stay to see
her battered soul.

Moths

Moths

moths flail thick winged on the glass...
as sweat stenched pillows cradle matted hair
and dumb eyes.

crumpled sheets strewn about wet flesh
trap wayward limbs
and snag jagged nails.

but the moths...

flicker and flap
and whisper wicked taunts
and promise quick kisses
stolen from behind the
cracked mirror
where both my faces
bleed into
one

Spirit Wicks

Spirit Wicks

There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it.
--Edith Wharton (1862 - 1937)

Memories melt
into the wax
of our souls.

Our senses are wicks
that hold the fire
that will eventually
consume us.

God was the guy
with the lighter.

History Lesson

History Lesson

By the way, I took your advice
and tried to 'go copulate' with myself.
But thoughts of you kept
throwing of my rhythm.
Consequently, I went blind, broke my wrist,
and was the punch line of many jokes
issued by the emergency room staff.
But in the end it didn't matter,

because
you cry tiny gods
from fake plastic eyes
that I refuse to worship anymore.

Murder and God

This picture is entitled, "Evolving Prey". It was created specifically for the verse below.


Murder and God

"One murder makes a villain, millions a hero."
--Beilby Porteus

I.
He leans in close and
picks pieces of her soul
from between his teeth
with splinters
ripped from an old rugged cross.

His shadow erases
her existence.

II.
her murderer's silhouette
provides a momentary respite
from the glaring eye of God
and she revels in her killer's
rebellion against the Almighty
even as she is a victim of it.

III.
the confusion between
the silhouette of a murderer
and a savior can be counted
in the degrees of gray
leading to black.

Identity Theft

This picture is entitled, "Identity Theft". I initially wanted to call it "Loosing Yourself" but that was just a tad too close to an Eminem song. So I typed 'loosing yourself' into my favorite search engine and an article concerning identity theft appeared.

The following verse wasn't written for the graphic... but it seemed to fit.

To the Enlightenment Junkies

I have a bobble-head Buddha
on the dash of my mini-van.
The fat fellow watches me
as I flip off jerks in 4X4 trucks.

When I get too angry,
he leaps from his perch
climbs awkwardly up my seatbelt
an slaps me senseless.

On one particular slapping session,
I heard the crunch of fenders
and everything stopped.

(I thought, "This is it!
I have attained enlightenment!")

Everything went dark save a single light,
a light at the end of a long tunnel...
I traveled to it.
There before me stood Jesus
and I said, "Is this it! Is this enlightenment!"

Apparently not,
for He took His own name in vain,
wielded His cross like a Louisville Slugger
and batted me back down the tunnel.

It was at that moment,
in a full body cast,
(Buddha had undone my seatbelt)
that I realized... enlightenment sucks.

Lot's Wife (Hourglass Eyes)

Lot's Wife (Hourglass Eyes)

"But his wife looked back from behind him, and she became a pillar of salt."
--Genesis 19:26

"Of whose wickedness even to this day the waste land that smoketh is a testimony, and plants bearing fruit that never come to ripeness: and a standing pillar of salt is a monument of an unbelieving soul."
--Wisdom of Solomon 10:7


Time sifts through her veins;
she is the broken hourglass
that has seen God.

She bleeds salt from
sandblasted stigmatas
and cries sand from
ever open eyes.

Parched parted lips reveal
a scorpion's tail
that strikes her throat
with every attempt to speak.

The wind scatters her
yet she cannot forget herself;
her consciousness spreads
with each windborne grain
until she envelopes humanity
and swallows their sin.

She is an ever-eroding
warning from God
--that I sprinkle on my food.

ButterNut

This is my son's new kitten she goes by many names: Angel Hunter, Feather Breath, Little Fox, but she's really "ButterNut".

Black Hole Antichrist

Black Hole Antichrist

"I have been called an antichrist by those that have never read the bible."

Antichrists are bent-light
warped by a collapsed Son.
Twisted glimmers
who sell God in tiny packets
of artificial sweetener
to desperate mouths
whose tongues crave the divine
and are frustrated to find
that God
is merely smoke
that is dispersed
by the very hands
that grasp for Him.

Eagerly, the wet lips
and probing tongues
devour the antichrist's
sugar coated crosses
until their stomachs
distend, their teeth
fall out
and they become useless.
Easily placated by fluttering scriptures
plucked out of Holy context
by the antichrist's
sweet-toothed
lies.

Meadow River Lumber Company

This is a picture of the Meadow River Lumber Company in Randolph County, WV. This is the lumber company my wife's great grandfather managed.

Lava for Sale

This is the Lava Lamp that my kids wanted for Christmas. They were disappointed when they found out that it didn't actually hold Lava.

Origin

I am a memory of
myself, adrift in
the dreams of my
children.

When they wake,
I vanish.

(but I never know whether
I was their dream
or nightmare.)

Sisters Chaste and Gotten

SISTERS
Chaste & Gotten

{A Single Act Comedy in Miniature}

Cast of Characters:

Sister Merry Chaste
Sister Mariam Gotten
The Unconscious Prostitute

Opening scene. Sister Mariam Gotten sits in the convent's cafeteria. She has just finished a late night snack and is now placing her dishes in the sink. Enter Sister Merry Chaste. She is backing into the room dragging an unconscious prostitute. Sister Mariam Gotten turns and addresses her.

Gotten: [Turning toward Chaste.] Sister Chaste?

Chaste: Yes.

Gotten: What are you carrying?

Chaste: [Makes the sign of the cross.] An overly inebriated prostitute --I mean, former prostitute.

Gotten: Sister Chaste?

Chaste: Yes.

Gotten: Why are you dragging a drunken prostitute into the convent's cafeteria at three o'clock in the morning?

Chaste: To get some coffee?

Gotten: That excuse may work on me, but Mother Superior is going to ask a few more questions.

Chaste: Well, I was hoping some coffee would wake her up. It always works on the movies. Isn't that what you're supposed to do in these situations? [Starts to lift the prostitute onto a table, but is having difficulty.]

Gotten: [Walks over and assists Chaste.] From the looks of her Sister Chaste, she could probably sleep through judgment. How much has she had to drink?

Chaste: I'm not quite sure.

Gotten: Maybe you should tell me a little more about was has happened.

Chaste: She came to me asking for my help.

Gotten: She wants to become a nun?

Chaste: Well, not exactly. Though I'm sure that with a little enlightenment, I will be able to convince her of the wondrous life we lead.

Gotten: Ah, so you saw her passed out and decided to bring her here.

Chaste: No. She did come to me and ask for help, but I fear she may have been under duress at the time.

Gotten: Duress? What did you do? Hold her at knifepoint?

Chaste: No, not exactly.

Gotten: Not exactly? What in the world are you talking about?

Chaste: Well, it's a little difficult to explain.

Gotten: Go on.

Chaste: You may have noticed I haven't been my usual perky self during morning prayers.

Gotten: Actually, no. You always seem perky.

Chaste: Why thank you. I do try. Anyway, I've been going out among the sinners at night and doing the Lord's work.

Gotten: The tabloids would have a field day with that one.

Chaste: Why?

Gotten: [As if reading headline.] Nun goes around city picking up drunken prostitutes. Claims to be doing Lord's work.

Chaste: Very funny, sister Gotten. I have had some very difficult problems. This work is not easy to perform.

Gotten: I bet. Where did you perform this work.

Chaste: Down on Forty Second North.

Gotten: Forty Second North? I didn't even think you knew of that part of town.

Chaste: Well to be honest, I didn't. I went up to Father Leonard and asked him where the sinners gathered.

Gotten: And he actually told you? Wow, that means he condones your actions.

Chaste: Not exactly.

Gotten: What?

Chaste: I waited till he was preparing communion. Somehow he becomes more conducive to innovative ideas around communion time.

Gotten: That's because Father Leonard enjoys drinking toasts to the Lord.

Chaste: Sister Gotten!

Gotten: Well it's true. I've seen him, but go on.

Chaste: Well, I decided to take the convent's van down to Forty Second North and show those people how to be virtuous. It was quite a culture shock I assure you. Do you know what happened the first minute that I stepped out of the van?

Gotten: What?

Chaste: I was propositioned!

Gotten: No! [Sarcastically.]

Chaste: It was quite unsettling. Well, I had been going down there for about a week and was about to give up. In fact I told myself if I didn't help someone tonight, I was going to quit going down there. The Lord must have been listening. I had just arrived and was attempting to parallel park the van, when the poor frightened girl laying before us came running out of a near by door way. Her high heel broke as she tried to turn too quickly, but she came stumbling down the side walk just as fast as she could. She had tears streaming down her eyes and was yelling for help. The mascara she had on was smeared and she looked very scared. Then I looked up at the doorway and understood why. A man came running out of the same door with a gun.

Gotten: A gun!

Chaste: Yes, a gun. The poor girl was frantically trying to get out of the path of the gun. She was dodging to the left and to the right, but the man kept moving the gun towards her. I think he meant to shoot her in cold blood. I was horrified. But the girl looked like she was going to get away. Then it happened.

Gotten: What?!

Chaste: She fell down. The man lowered his gun to her level and was laughing maniacally. He slowly tightened his grasp on the trigger and...

Gotten: And what!?

Chaste: And that's when the street lamp fell on him.

Gotten: Street lamp? What street lamp?

Chaste: The street lamp I inadvertently knocked over while I was trying to parallel park the convent's van.

Gotten: Amazing. Mother Superior is going to love this one. What happened next?

Chaste: The poor girl ran to the van and begged me to take her some place safe. What could I do? This is the safest place I know.

Gotten: What happened to the man? Did you at least call an ambulance?

Chaste: No, he was all right.

Gotten: How could you be certain?

Chaste: He couldn't have been too hurt. After all, he was able to stand up and shoot five bullet holes into the back of the van door.

Gotten: We're going to have to increase Mother Superior's heart medicine tomorrow, or she's going to have a heart attack.

Chaste: I certainly hope not. I've had enough excitement for this week.

Gotten: How did she [Points at prostitute.] get so drunk?

Chaste: I'm not exactly sure. I was in the van. She was in the van. I decided since we just had a near death experience, it might be a good time to talk of the Lord and the wondrous life that I lead here at the convent. [Pause.] She must have had the bottle in her purse. It was a long drive and I just kept talking. By the time we got here, she was passed out in the back of the van with an empty bottle in her hand.

Gotten: Now that, I can understand.

Chaste: Well, what do you think I should do?

Gotten: I don't know, Merry Chaste. What do you think?

Chaste: I was thinking if you would help me, we could get her out of these vile clothes, clean her up, put some good clothes on her, and give her a good place to sleep for the night.

Gotten: Okay. I agree to help you on one condition. Don't mention my name to Mother Superior tomorrow.

Chaste: It's a deal. [She starts to pull the high heels of the prostitute's feet.] Good Lord how did she ever get any business with her feet smelling this bad?

Gotten: I doubt if many of her customers were interested in her feet.

Chaste: [Sits prostitute up and starts to remove her blouse (a bikini top is underneath.) She pauses and stares at her back with a puzzled look. Then steps back startled. The prostitute falls forward on her stomach.] Sister Gotten! She has tattoos of immoral acts all over her back! [Turns away.]

Gotten: [Walking over she stops and looks.] That's ingenious.

Chaste: What?

Gotten: It seems to be an illustrated price guide. Each picture is numbered. [Studies it a bit further.] Some of the prices have been scratched out and new ones written underneath.

Chaste: What on earth for?

Gotten: Inflation?

Chaste: Sister Gotten that was rude.

Gotten: No, I 'm serious. I figure a good Wall Street analyst could make predictions based on this kind of detailed price tracking. It even has dates!

Chaste: [Coming over and looking.] You're right! Look right there. Isn't that when what's his name took office?

Gotten: Sure is.

Chaste: Wow. This is very detailed. Well, that just goes to prove that this poor woman needs our help.

Gotten: Charging these prices, she couldn't be too poor.

Sister Merry Chaste and Sister Mariam Gotten start to wash off the prostitute with wet rags from the kitchen sink. Sister Merry Chaste keeps slowing down becoming more and more preoccupied with the tattoos on the prostitutes back. She alternates between wide-eyed wonder and a guilty expression.

Chaste: [Studying the illustration with wide eyes.] Sister Gotten, I have a confession to make.

Gotten: Do I really have to hear this?

Chaste: Forgive me. [Makes the sign of the cross.] I believe I am guilty of number sixty two.

Gotten: [Looking down the list of tattoos.] Mary Chaste! You'll have to confess that one to a priest! My goodness, I never thought you would be the type of person to do that! [Points at the prostitute's back.]

Chaste: Do you really think it's that bad?

Gotten: Yes Sister Chaste, I really do. [Pause.] But just between you and me, how did you get the raccoon to stand on its head?

Chaste: Raccoon!? [looks at list] That's fifty-two. I said sixty-two!

Gotten: [Looks at list again.] Oh Sister Merry Chaste, we're all guilty of number sixty two.

Chaste: Everyone?

Gotten: Yes, everyone.

Chaste: Even Mother Superior?

Gotten: Even Mother Superior.

Chaste: That isn't a very pleasant thought.

Gotten: I have to agree with you. That isn't a pretty thought.

Chaste: [After a pause.] How often do you think she does number sixty-two?

Gotten: Who?

Chaste: Mother Superior.

Gotten: If her personality is any indication --not very often.

Chaste: Do you think she does it more than three times a day?

Gotten: I don't know. Why?

Chaste: No reason. [Long pause.] Sister Gotten?

Gotten: Yes. [Irritated.]

Chaste: Do you think it's harmful to do it more than three times a day?

Gotten: [Smiling slyly.] No. Three times a day won't hurt, but if you do it more than five you're eyebrows will start to grow together.

Chaste: [After a quick deep inhale.] Excuse me Sister Gotten, I have to use the restroom.

Gotten: There's a mirror above the sink. [Chuckles.]

Chaste: Sister Gotten, it isn't nice to play tricks on the naive.

Gotten: I'm not. Have you noticed Mother Superior's eyebrow.

Chaste: [Looks thoughtful.] Well, I believe she is clean enough. I'll run to the bath and get her some clean clothes. [Exit Chaste]

Gotten: [Crooks her head right as she looks at one of the tattoos on the prostitute's back.]

Chaste: [From off stage.] Sister Gotten?

Gotten: [Crooks her head left. Talks as if preoccupied.] Yes.

Chaste: Do you know where I can find a razor? There are some tags that need to be cut off these clothes.

Gotten: [Still looking at the prostitute's back.] Above the Correctol, next to the Pepto Bismol.

Chaste: Thanks.

Gotten: [Continues looking at the prostitutes back. She alternates facial expressions between disgust, awe, jealous smiles, or any other expression appropriate.]

Chaste: [Enters with a band aid between her eye brows.] I got the clothes. All nice and fresh.

Gotten: Did you get the tags off?

Chaste: What tags... Oh yeah, I got them off. [Both Chaste and Gotten begin to dress the prostitute.] Sister Gotten, this situation may be too much for Mother Superior to handle.

Gotten: Yes, It just might be.

Chaste: Do you really think I'll get into too much trouble?

Gotten: I don't know Sister Merry Chaste. But, don't worry about our agreement. I will go with you to Mother Superior in the morning.

Chaste: Oh thank you, Sister Mariam Gotten! [By this line, they should be finished redressing the prostitute.]

The two sisters get the prostitute off the table and help her to her feet. Sister Merry Chaste is on the right of the prostitute and Sister Mariam Gotten is on the left. The two sisters are supporting the prostitute between them and turn to face the audience.

Gotten: [To audience.] She may be Chaste.

Chaste: [To audience.] And she may be Gotten.

Gotten and Chaste: [In unison to audience.] But this one thing we have never forgotten.

Gotten: [To audience.] We may have a Band-Aid upon our brow.

Chaste: [To audience.] But when there is trouble, we'll help somehow.

Gotten: [To audience.] And although your enemy may have a large gun...

Chaste: [To audience.] He will not withstand the force of a parking nun.

Gotten: [To audience.] We do all we do so that maybe you'll see...

Chaste: [To audience.] That sisters are your friends, and will serve you faithfully.

Chaste and Gotten: [To audience.] Good night!

Exit Chaste and Gotten carrying the prostitute between them.


THE END

Glass Ghosts

This is a picture of my Grandma Nellie, Grandpa Denzil, Uncle Fay, Mother, Aunt Doris, and Uncle Ted (left to right back row then front).

Glass Ghosts

"These lovely lamps, these windows of the soul."
--Guillaume de Salluste Du Bartas (1544-1590)

Lenses from Grandfather's bifocals
were ground into sand.

Now they sift through a
perpetual glass prison
in an hourglass heirloom.

Upon death,
the living grind glass
and add vision to the timepiece
so the rest of the chain
can see glints of stray light
and insight from
ancient eyes
that flash into
young pupils.

Each contribution
lengthens time
as each old ghost
lends a hand
to the living.