Like a stretched-out cat, she gazes into a
melting mirror but does not know herself.
Her reflection stares back vacantly, neither
offering insight into past’s predicaments nor
future’s footsteps.
Tag Archives: free verse
Apricot Moon
That droning throat buried in
his fingers, cracked and tanned as
barren earth, narrates the tenderness
of our times.
Into the wind, from hoping souls,
agile lungs stain this burning night
with the bittersweet shades
of our days.
Somewhere past midnight,
but well before dawn, silence
falls betwixt brandied cheeks,
yet our hearts wail on.
Honey Girl
Eyes not yet open,
hidden in warm honey,
stare into comforting darkness,
searching for safety.
Will you look upon me,
or shall my face be your
eternal, distant,
advocate?
Eyes not yet open,
hidden in a flourishing orchard,
refuse to see the
dangers that await them.
Shall I look upon you,
or will your face be my
lone, unknowable, lantern
in life’s teeming tide?
neither shadow nor shape
To cast a shadow in
a land without light
is the fight of giants.
Blessed are those who
stretch for high heaven
to burned-out beacons,
unaware of their bite.
Nowhere to be seen, but
in the clouds, we shall meet.
Return to Sender
In a tan station wagon, cruising up Fifteenth Street,
we were mere seedlings, aching to shoot up from our
earthen pots.
Bare bones in the breeze, floating on the back of a
Victory-8, murmur of deprivation from the
shadows of their lives.
Meet me by the streetlight next to the mailbox that is
no longer there (you know the one); I shall wrap you in
the balmy blankets of 1996.
arc of the day
The arc of the day
slips beyond your eyes,
tapping you on the back
before you can see it.
You sense it just as its
rays meet your retinas.
Its startling grasp shines
softly off your school shoes,
working its way into your
pocket, knocking you to your
knees…head hanging low.
Cards From Yourself
Invisible letters,
which never blessed
your hands, were
drafted on the night
when you first wept.
Her words were branded
upon you cheek
during the penultimate
painful yet powerful push.
Listen to your heartbeat;
its pulse is her precept,
offered up to you.
Through A Mi’s Eyes
hiding under tables,
behind windows on beds,
face to the floor
because there is nothing above you,
hands together,
staring at dirt
The Evening Post
Letter in your little lair, come caress my
fingers. Whisper your words, soaked in
oceans wider than my wounds.
Swans on sorry silver, flap off into this night
of Nyx. Seek out the hungry thumbs that
gave you flight and love them once again.
Brain Swimming
Snow falls slowly like
driblets of white molasses,
buying depleted time as
they drift down to
impenetrable ground.
Snow white pillows,
two for the taking,
bear contrasting forms,
come to their graves
at separate strokes.
Hair, black as chimney
gut, cover frozen feet,
now, forever untethered
from ballroom floors,
glittering under diamond eyes.
Hair, blue as heaven’s
head, knows not bold breeze
or branch’s balance, wings
unmoving–heart unfeeling,
all in one morning blink.
Unlikely companions in
false memory’s kettle, fade
into recesses of fable and fancy,
perceiving nothing save what I
have imagined.
sundry folly 