On storm scented days, the sky was populated by grey warbirds
their feathers consumed the bright, with lighting and rain for words
On war scented nights, all the stars joined into a sonorous roar
to shatter the million poisonous bits making up its dark core
Continue reading “The Parttime Harpy”
It’s a book of tradition, a tale of sorrow,
like the snake on the mighty apple tree,
like a river of time, cutting through
generations of living flesh and mind.
Continue reading “By the Book”
With my arms behind my back,
bound with past beliefs and moral
I took pride in this mold of duty.
Safely hugged by those chains, Continue reading “native tongue”
the template was destined to be wrong.
It took me decades to see why.
history of mistakes added up to delusion
alien failures became domestic madness Continue reading “3Ts”
I am made of ocean breeze and sea spray,
a sliver of eternal mutability at heart,
I’m the erratic riptide on rocks of fire, Continue reading “3T”
is the rustling leaves in the soft wind,
in the whisper of sheets in the nooks of blue
is the nightly cricket’s song for fireflies,
Continue reading “The Three Ts”
is a hotel room I have no memory of
is a layer of discarded skin and dust
is a patched-up-river of cut movement
is my daydream sewed together into
something comprehensible and real
more genuine and true than the actual day Continue reading “numb”