Straight from the Camel's Nipples

This poem came about because of a very brief and weird dream involving camel nipples? Don't ask haha.  Anyways, enjoy:


*************
I turned and watched the bosom sway,
heavy with fresh milk and irony.
The pregnant thing did betray

a bit of remorse
at her sorrowful state ---
I touched them gingerly.

The aureolas darkened,
growing large.
Lactation.

We Watch The Shadows

We watch the shadows
ripple effortlessly across the cement
like disturbed moonbeams;
enchantingly quiet.

One can only assume
that the Little People
are responsible.

Who else can immaculately conceive
such wonder?

Little Rattler

I saw the sun streak warnings
across your reddened palm
as you raised the stick
and nudged the little Rattler.
     Bewildered,
I closed my eyes
and felt my breath leave my lungs.

But all was well.
The tiny thing slithered away
into the crooked mountain crevices
as we made our way back down.
     Shocked,
I looked at your face
betray ignorance of your selfless audacity

and I wondered if all my dammed up fear
would give way, one day, and again lead me here.

In The Hidden Garden

An empty cigarette box and several orange peels
lay littered across the sun-faded bricks,
decorating the ground.
      It was quiet enough in this space.
There was no darkness here.

     Yes, the trees cast bluish shadows
across my feet.
     Yes, the sunlight crept in too slowly
to throw off of my seat, the gloom
of early morning.
     Too slow for my taste.

     But the pink and yellow hibiscus flowers
still smiled up at the new dawn
and I was at peace.

The day had exorcised the blackness
that had filled my room the night before,
thick as molasses and formidable as it was.