the water’s edge

she lived along
the water’s edge
and felt it closer
everyday

a universe
of solitude
among the crowds
at work and play

the world’s malicious
and obscene
and she has seen this
at its worst

she lives along
the water’s edge
but cannot find enough
to aid

her thirst

Constricted

The ties that long constricted her
Are there of her own choosing;
The method to her gladness; whether
Using or abusing

And now she sits beside a man
She doesn’t really know –
Allowing him a privilege
He hasn’t really earned –
She’s there in dazed bemusement,
Not quite sure why it is so –
But knows the ties that cut too deep
Are just like being burned

There is a type of battle that
Is deadlier than swords:
And everywhere she goes, she fights
Against
Her self-made
Cords

The Garden of Mordacity

Her house is really beautiful…

Her house is really beautiful
It’s quiet and serene;
The roses in the garden red
Along the hedges green

The garden’s an achievement
In which she takes much pride:
It makes for quite a contrast with
What’s going on inside

The house is full bitter spite
That grows with every year:
The biting, gnawing hatred there
Beneath the calm veneer

For she has everything she wants
Among the idle rich:
But still she leads a joyless life
A scathing
Selfish
Bitch

Only One Love

He stands with a tray of Chick-fil-A
Out in the mall food court;
A man who’s in his seventies
The quiet, smiling sort

And he gets tired on his feet –
For he stands most the day;
So people ask him why he doesn’t
Just go home, and stay

They do not know his heart when
They suggest that he move on:
The grief he finds at home
These lonely years
Since she’s
Been gone

So Many Varied Throbbing Thoughts

So many varied throbbing thoughts
She writes upon the sunlit wall;
Secluded things that she has seen,
Supplied scant time to tell them all –

Surrounded by her bits of grace,
Supporting her long skein of quest:
Simplicity at surface, and
Sinuousness in all the rest