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These days I cannot budge free From the closed vise of grief From the stone I’ve crawled under Braced for impact in the dark – Love songs and sonnets Are scrubbed clean from the heart And only soothing hymns Visit now and then – These days I’m far away Alone and burning to ring…
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My bedroom is filled to the ceiling With the earth’s dead weight With the harvest of full lives Frozen in pose – Their colors grow dull Behind plastic frames Giving the last of their light To this scrapyard of reveries – Gone are the rushing moments Of gilded eyesight, When precious lumber and stone…
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There is freedom In never needing to hurry As time swiftly drains Through clamoring hands – There’s a clear window pane Within that slothful dream, A view of snow-capped hills Above fire swept plains Ruled by thirst – There is beauty Sold only On our side of the rock To the few fine royals…
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The morning tremors return To my scarred body’s embrace, Stalled before the cliffside And the ocean’s roar – The dark water’s laughter Only draws me inside From an old shore of comforts To unravel with the damned – Never too far down shore Over the dunes and bluffs I return to home’s heights Where idle…
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Elusive fables and charms Sail from the evening sun In burning volleys Tinged with gold – They are the ill-fated phantoms That arc out of reach Bragging of a new life As they fall into the earth – They are the passages of the lost Falling to be reclaimed, I tear them up…
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Stairwell sermons Return to me in the predawn dark As an oasis afire With golden light – These visions float on With long lost faces Their voices resounding With drunken affection – As grandfather preaches His towering fables Each precious word sung Given a life of its own – Down the stairwell again…
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A truce With myself at last In the impossible silence, Time to clear out the ruins Before the night flames red – A truce The words ring bittersweet from my tongue, As I brace for the shatter Of civility’s spell – A truce In this mire of my own design To recover friends lost…
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What will I become? Not the man uprooted from their hearts? When a father stops singing And a mother’s soft words Ebb and flow through a dream – Who will I defer to Not the idols they carved? When sisters turn to their worlds And slip over the horizon? – How will I draw…
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The bite of cold metal Breaks the skin, I flood the vial in red And it’s for my own good When my polluted heart races – The grey morning’s fade fast Inside this sterile machine, Crushed within its whirring parts Bearing a soulless sheen – Tapped out by noon When the lab has had its…
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A melodic shroud encircles me When the day falls empty, On an orbit that thieves And melts away time – The will to escape Joins in its swift demise In the heart of her melody, In her raven-black beauty – I greet her ghostly chords And they carry me forward Across the night’s widening…
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