At the end of the pier, The railing stops. There you can look, Or jump, or turn; There’s always just Those options, though It’s taken me Some time to learn That leaping forward, Going back, Or dawdling Is all there is: At the end of the pier Is where I am: And it’s your basic … Continue reading "At the end of the pier…"
BORN of the body, memories Of where she was, and what she felt; Every bone with different marrow, Pangs that in the sun just melt, Capillaries of inclusion, All in one, and one in all: Birthed in sorrow’s touch, and needing Rising wind and waterfall. There for the taking, melodies That soothed her ears and … Continue reading "Rising Wind"
I will no more these beaches walk Perspective given by the size Of waters greater than my eyes, Or words I could put into talk. Instead, behind a peeling door, I will keep on in altering, My steps uncertain, faltering, Imagining the world outside No more
We want things badly, so That's how we get them; Mistakes take over lives Because we let them. I know, because I've made them, Make them still -- For right minds still can't fix A broken will.
I am the broken dawn, the straggling day. Arrived again, but to no purpose led -- I see the world in mist before me spread, But find no answering, no well-lit way To where, again, the sun connects the pulse To things that matter; weighed down like a plinth, I stand unmoving in this labyrinth … Continue reading "The Broken Dawn"
she is not where she was, nor who. this is both grief, and a relief. and though in beauty breaks the morn, she does, a little, too. she's lost, with neither cause nor cost, expressions coined and breathing joined: in memory of the never-born, and sunny days before the permafrost
It's hard to know what's real within The age of imagery and tricks; We burn ourselves with fantasies Until there's nothing left but sticks And rotting lumber. Smell it now: The blight so deep there's naught can fix, While those who've held our time are off To other victims, other Clicks
dressed-up night her in dazzling blue me dumbstruck
While rummaging, he found a favorite picture from the days that love was new in purpose and in countless other ways; He thought, then, with a smile of how they used burn and smolder, before he put that life away in this manila folder