Monday, December 29, 2008

monsoon maven

sip the breeze and sigh...

roots grow thick and slow
the tender shoots of lacking

the subtle twist of limb and roll of bark
that has forsaken the moss to reveal

(not withstanding all previous
degrees of ancient groves)

wooden vertebrae stalks
reading spinal rings
finding a hump,

but like a meandering camel
the rain of all rains has come

torrential bliss, a monsoon maven
adjusting the investments of those

who cared too little
and spent too much

wandered into a maze of cypress
and tried to be forgotten
in a shady empire

where is that promise on the wind?

12.29.08 © acn

Saturday, November 8, 2008


these are solemn moments
dripping from the aching
honey-eyed plants

they are reassuring
but the flamboyant fleet
has set sweet sail

the waving imp dawdles,
dancing on the stern,
in a single pirouette
he spits, yelling out:

"do not piss off that gnome!"

the sea maidens are humming
a tumultuous rock strewn song:

speak to serious and forgotten flowers,
the only ones that ever spilled thought
of healing blossomed wanderers

with tango slipped dresses
and torn smiles that sainted 

all the onlookers

the harness
stepped into
the maker's hands

the buckles fell open
laughing like odd little ducks

seeking tighter gleaming
entrances they were cinched
by marvelous aching spectators

acn ©

Friday, September 5, 2008





beautiful green


they smell of tree blood

their ghost skins

clinging to the laundry

delicate canapes for the cat,

who munches them

like canary feathers...

©agn 8.8.97


apron'd eyes smile

wide with ageless secrets
from the slanting glass

a wise meadow's gaze

not sentimental or unkind
something silvery and soft spoken
a few lightening bolts 
amidst chamomile

planting voluptuous thoughts,
weaving fertile lines ~
delicate ink angels

calligraphic emissions

her mind's breath
flows into paper

a peace from her
lovely virgo closets...

© agn 9.9.97

Friday, August 15, 2008


grappling the spazzle-grist
and new coffee-thick trapeze

then femur of thistle
musk drunk dives askew

beyond atoms and sapling
take the shreddy-spare

and bringway
the mistle tombs
or shrink

to the humbleside
storing earwise

ambling the crooky tank slinktop
in the purple sock trundle tent breath
by the river bench theatre

©agn 2.12.96

Thursday, June 26, 2008

gnat music

chocolate soul
skin of peach ~

cinnamon feathers
freckled silk

tucking honeysuckle lures
behind each ear ~

breath held, listening
for the smallest song ~

moon-tanned tastes
of red wined lips

unkempt kisses
spilling into thunder

© acn 1.30.97

vitreous gestures

sinews are waves


flesh that floods
across the coral of bone
under the Coriolis of skin


flashes of fluid
liquid lattices
train a
of breath


an ebbing
of will


a trace
of sand
and sweat


tidal motion
and vitreous


form a mirage


sinews are waves

(~good bye~)

© agn 6.7.97

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

soul waters

soak me 
in the you lagoon

i've just become a manatee
i swim with rare thoughts 
like rice-sheep moons

while you tempt me 
with your marrow steeple pie

i throw dusk and lemon trees 
before your sky-turned eyes

i sigh tiny wind chimes 
from the ear drum of my belly
and hem a wishing tune 
inside a secret toy sunrise

drench me
in your far-close smile,

i am the windowsill of a rain cloud
i paint feather ankles or smoke 

as you appear 

some soft special deviance, 
an injury to heal the wound...

© agn 12.20.96

Thursday, February 7, 2008

fingertips sing

i feel them below
huge naked palms
suspend my body

curve under stomach
except there is no mattress

i breathe underwater
my soft insides
nestling with 
stretchy bones

filling the finger-lined belly bowl

i feel innocent and spineless
i reach toward the shinning place 
until my sides solidify

aching and stiff 
i cry because i can not hold this 
bright sharp moon
i let go 

because they flutter and gather
the hands are like birds or field mice
cupped around my floating middle
like some vital chalice 
between this world 
and the next

i peek between 
the dim outline 
of their contours, 
shadow pictures 
on the wall

there's something 
precious, precarious, 
almost visible at times...

and discerning, i grew my own
strong and small, my fins, my hands

most times i keep these hidden 
now that i am older
they turn pages
lock or unlock
sooth and steer

unfolding others
tracing line, 
mount and apex

so many eager words;
read, predict, explain...

my hands see better
they are unblinking
and fingertips sing

© agn 6.17.97