Return of Summer

by Stephen Jarrell Williams

The night smells of mint and dust
Left by a dry wind from the desert

She walks the side yard
Away from the window light

Barefoot on the wilted lawn
Hesitating as she opens the gate

Out front the street waits
Quiet as a snake

She takes the bait
Cloudless sky sprinkled with stars

A boy opens his car door
His face saintly in the dark

She has done this before
A slim, wild-eyed girl, rebellious

As her father sleeps
With the TV on

His wife, her mother long since gone
Paths of the earth repeated mysteries

Whispering cycles with forked tongues
While he worked two jobs for twenty years.

Piano Man

by Stephen Jarrell Williams

He plays the piano remembering
Stirring his fingertips into a rhythm
In the dimly lit corner he sits
Bent into it
Quiet bar

A gathering crowd
He’s unaware of their presence

He plays with closed eyes
Tired eyes

The music nursing memories
Everyone still
Entranced

Making the lonely whole
He smiles to himself
Lifting his head
Blind
To the crowd caught in his heaven.

The Squeeze

by Stephen Jarrell Williams

The squeeze of it
Earth and sky
Flesh and spirit

Purple welts on the bottom of my bare feet
Sun boils on the top of my scarlet scalp
Stints in my heart

Soft rubber flip-flops for my stiff toes
My hippie hair still long but thin
Sad rock-and-roll playing in my head

You don’t care
I don’t blame you
We’re all alone even holding one another

But just take a moment
Bite the air and stand still
Eyes closed

Feel it
Not as pain
But a transition

Grapes into wine

The sea majestically blending
All the red of our unsolved worries
Into a beautiful blue shimmering
Beside the land turning greener and lush
Without our foolish promises of help

The squeeze of it

The squeeze of something much more.

You Shouldn’t

by Stephen Jarrell Williams

They say you shouldn’t
Antagonize the government
With their continuing expansion of the Patriot Act
Supplying sniper rifles to one-eyed Jacks

Marshall Law signs already printed up and stored
In vacant buildings outside of town and city

Row-after-row of thousands training
Strategically staged across the country
Containment forces with truck loads of body bags

NSA listening
Lists drawn
Odds are you’re on at least one page with an X

Easy now
Don’t panic

You use to think your body was God’s
But they’ll use it
After you’re shot and displayed like a ragdoll
Igniting you on TV

What a fire that will be
The news announcing nothing to worry about
Just a trash fire
Another trouble-maker dead

For everything is under control here at home
Smoke becoming our atmosphere.

Old City

by Stephen Jarrell Williams

Too many walls,
baloney smell
damp.

Our minds infiltrated,
radiated
with bogus facts.

Confusion
slicing us
into stumps.

Fruit
bloodied,
roots dangling...

We're mashed
potatoes
heaped on their golden plates.

They're laughing
at us
spooning us down.

Closing us in
cardboard boxes
against the elements.

But when our babies weep,
we sprout thorns
engorged.

Our old city shaking,
a thousand cities quaking,
dust rising to the sky.

Stones coming their way.

The Straight Truth

by Stephen Jarrell Williams

I don't drink.
I don't smoke.
I don't do drugs.
I don't chase women.

I've just loved
my wife
all these years,
but she has changed,
and to her I haven't
changed enough.

She wants
a man of God
as she believes
a man of God should be.

I'm not God.
I'm not Jesus.
I'm not a preacher.

I'm just a man
trying to tip the scales
in the right direction.

The Rut

by Stephen Jarrell Williams

At work
in the rut

making my widgets
assembly line

wishing I could
belt the boss

hush
hush

footsteps
in the hall

Homeland Security
marching in

they must have read
one of my poems

they're rather touchy
in their Nazi suits

pushing me out back
to a vacant field

handing me a shovel
digging my grave

deeper
in the rut.

Martyr

by Stephen Jarrell Williams

They paint me
colors
I don't mind
to be
hunting me
down
tying me
up
on poles
tortured
my last words
piercing
their deeds
hanging from a tree
I rot into a flower
my roots
shaking the earth
erupting
my children
shining as stars.

Walking Away

by Stephen Jarrell Williams

Your fists hammering on my back,

I’m walking away, deeper into the dark forest,
your imagination, jealousy, depravity
reeking from the hollow of your throat
yelling, demanding that I stop,

and I do stop, wanting to tell you off,
turning around, facing you, standing there
in your thick coat, jeans, boots,
steaming breath,
piercing eyes,

there was a time I craved you, everything about you,
but this dream I’m waking from, will turn you
into more of an animal,

you realize you’re down to the last fold of night,
smiling, unzipping your coat, dropping it on a scatter of pine cones,
unbuttoning your blouse slowly, letting it flutter down behind you,
your white bra snug against your breasts,
you hold your arms out for me to finish you,

and I do finish you,

leaving you in the woods, your legs squeezing trees,
humping boulders,
caressing yourself into fits,
defying the sanctity of the land,
mud between your toes,

finding dried fakes of earth in my bed,
my bathtub always with a smear of you,
footprints on my carpet,
morning beer cans lining the kitchen counter,
your smooth voice inside the refrigerator.

WINDOWS

by Stephen Jarrell Williams

Lots of windows long years
opening and closing my mind
on things like...

your silhouette in room corners dark
sitting in a chair staring at me
frowning...

bedroom carpet growing a mouth at midnight,
teeth as big as my boots lost in the closet
you ran into...

you're always naked
in what I remember when drinking
alone...

someone blowing that blasted horn
in the distance beside the crossroads
barren in the crimson dust...

clouds speeding over our bed
out in the Arizona desert
howling in our embrace...

where did you go while I was sleeping
under pillows piled on my head
by you?

my tombstone in a giant mirror
on the only wall left
beside a thousand shattered windows...

why didn't you just hang
curtains?

BLUE ARTISANS

by Stephen Jarrell Williams

Too much magic in the mess we've created...

Multiple paintings
far reaching
shore to shore, cities to walls

our click clicking thousands
acrylic
crayons

hordes roaming
mad in our dreams,

changing our style

we can't stop the flood
lightning jagged in the night
rumblings of thunder shaking windowpane
glass breaking us awake,

who's there?
the loud quiet in our ears
leaking linseed oil,

sitting up in our beds
we're a tribe of selling artists

paint brushes and pencils under our pillows

we're miles from the sea
sketching nudes in waves
tying down the sexy ones with wet sheets in the sand,

moon warm
pastel skin
gleaming highlights on an endless canvas,

we never finish night after night
assembly line
rain dripping
sometimes smearing our best lines drawn,

the sun's spotlight showing our tricks of living forever
in the paint.

CALIFORNIA FIRE

by Stephen Jarrell Williams

Near dawn I'm sitting on the edge of bed,
everything with a tinge of black
pulling me back into the night,

you're behind me breathing hot on my neck,
your hands snaking around to my belly,

pressing hard against me
your cool breasts...

California fires burning on TV and you
lasting like a line of flame across the entire valley,

never forgetting this
our last night together

sprinkling ashes of glowing orange outside the window,
bed squeaking like an old woman,

you thinking
you'll never be alone,

mountainsides burnt with stumps of trees and bushes
once strong and green,
canopied by an arc of tainted sky.

BLINK

by Stephen Jarrell Williams

We are
becoming
spiritless
in this modern bombardment of senses

someone preying on us
keeping our minds
off
them

the bastards
wiping their asses
with billion-dollar bills

they're getting ready
to flush us
while we watch
a kaleidoscope of false colors

or can we blink
just once
and finally see?

THE PARTY IS OVER

by Stephen Jarrell Williams

The party is over...

Stumbling around the kitchen,
oven door open,
a limp bra inside.

Stumping my toe
in the living room,
an empty bottle like a bowling pin.

Hopping on one foot
out the back door to the pool.

Wishing the wife would be swimming
naked and smiling.

But she left years ago,
when my sins could still float,
drunkenly hopeful.

HARSH WORLD

by Stephen Jarrell Williams

Our lives quivering
like spider webs
in the morning breeze
shining
silvery
fragile
with giants on the earth
roaming
throwing stones
through our hearts.

GYPSY LOVE AND WAR

by Stephen Jarrell Williams

Long cold shore
dappled sea
waiting for war

love
gypsy in the middle
young men partying

they will be next
to march away
for some foreign stink hole

waves
slipping foam over wet sand
bare feet

distant clouds creeping in
he kisses her wrapped in a blanket
she has whispered in most of their ears

from the same neighborhood they sharpened their knives
she taught them how to dance from one girlfriend to another
she is the sister to them
first crush
dream girl
through the years she has pressed her breasts into most

they all love her
she will cry when they leave in their uniforms

what has the world done to keep repeating itself?

he squeezes her
the last king of their class

her black curls
down across her shoulders
trembling

she will outlive the whole troop
waving her hand across an empty sea

standing naked in her boots.

IN THE MORNING

by Stephen Jarrell Williams

We walk in a quiet march
under heavy clouds,
mist falling
mini pearls clinging to our coats.

The singing has ended for the night,
the song still in our minds,
our throats swore
by the meaning of the words.

Tomorrow we will be in the City of Cities,
all the world will hear.

We are some of the many
millions wanting
change in the kingdoms of government...

We move on,
our numbers blurring the sight of us...

Thunder rumbling in the distance,
countries beginning to bow.

Not enough bullets, or fire, or depravity
can weigh us down like the old days lying,
lying, so much lying...

We are no longer meek.
Our strength is our will
pushing down the walls with our flood of flesh.

In the mourning we will sing. We will sing.
And they will listen.

IN THE NEW GARDEN OF ASHES

by Stephen Jarrell Williams

They say it will be the end of the world
Soon

Cities blazing with blue flame

You're swallowing hard sitting in bed
Staring across the room at the mirror

I'm massaging your bare back
Window fan blowing in cool
Outside blur of what will come

You whisper
There's no way out of this

Our house between dying
Memories and desperate hope

Only some will survive
In the new garden of ashes

You sigh
Turning to me smiling

Swishing your breasts side to side
Whispering

Let's burn the bed down.