Poetry
beautiful fools
pale, under winter’s twilight love’s lace-gown apparition, silent tho, its flowing aura, glowing blurred, at the edges of blind-beggary’s ivory-eyed sight like a counterfeit memory the hues, bleeding into each another reaching out– into the cold evening my fingers’ warm skin passes through– night’s frozen breath where once we’d been on the hillsides– on the […]
not everyone
It was an empty store, filled with empty souls, tho the shelves, stocked, and everyone’s arms, and minds, filled with the nothing of everything that doesn’t matter. I slipped around the side aisle, away from the anxious crowd. I poured a self-serve coffee, and took it all in, like breathing again after being drowned– hearing […]
simplicity
A mind grows weary of the rain’s falling assault, tho the sky never tires of its gray churn, and a mind starts to wonder– what is it under this spray-vandal’s heaven, that is real? Is any of this– sincerity, or is falsity the only sincerity which has ever been? Is there anyone– truthful, under this […]
halved-sun horizons
we are icebergs, lovers drifting in the cold sea colliding, in the randomness leaving gouged scrapes memory’s cleaved edges and itchy crystalline residue pieces of our leprosy left behind melting into the salt-foam waves as we carry on toward our halved-sun horizons all of us– passerby
gardens
words can’t make a notion true or less opaque if– of any worthwhile depth most thoughts of consequence are best understood in the unrehearsed honesty of abstraction best heard in the echo-hollow lingering between us most souls are best known in the dark soil of our silent gardens
lavender flowers
the bible would have been more interesting had we been told whom, it was– that jesus was fucking tho the fables’ lessons would fail us falling (further) into question if one, above others, were chosen tho it’s also true enough that love, chooses us for its desert cross I wrote a squalid poem one lonely […]
daydream
you come to me, love at these quiet times kaleidoscope colors leaves falling into the wet darkness then laying still evening’s solitude reminds aren’t we beautiful walking, together? the cafe-sidewalk memories spinning anyone watching can plainly see our love’s perfection and then an intruder arrives with his hand on your leg and more– smiles, laughter […]
promise
To see only his eyes, black and narrow, without any shine, any reflection, from outside, nor within, you wouldn’t know if he were alive, or waxen. We were high on mescaline, and I watched Leo change from nothing, to something, a dark King, and then back to nothing, but colored blood-red this time. At least […]
misconstrued
the whole of the trouble the entirety– of the conundrum is that all has been written poetry, scrawled with a crow’s quill dipped, scooped, and swirled in black-blood bent-dagger wounds each poem, an eleven-rose bouquet gifted– the whole of the trouble the entirety– of our pounding-drum conundrum is that all has been written the bleeding […]
three words
What a burden for three words to carry– on their starved, rib-shown backs rust-iron stones, chipped, dented, and squared rock-slide rubble remnants tucked, and jammed into every frayed and bursting blue-denim pocket the buts, the pointed condition(s) the held memories, the indignation(s) What a burden for three words to carry– Is it any wonder the […]